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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707965">to muzzle a dog admits he is a threat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PUNK_MENACE/pseuds/PUNK_MENACE'>PUNK_MENACE</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>lemon boy and me (we just gotta get along together) [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adrenaline, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Animal Death, Anxiety, Asphyxiation, Blood, Broken Bones, Burns, Cloud Strife Needs a Hug, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanization, Delirium, Dubious Science, Exhaustion, Eye Trauma, F/F, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Heat Stroke, Human Experimentation, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Infection, Invasion of Privacy, Medical Experimentation, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Medical Torture, Medical Trauma, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mentioned Zack Fair, Minor Character Death, Muzzles, Near Death Experiences, Needles, Non-Consensual Touching, Nudity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Zack Fair/Cloud Strife, Poisoning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Imbalance, Propaganda, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Rescue Missions, Revenge, Self-Sacrifice, Vomiting, Whump, Worry, hurt!Cloud, pain so much pain, sorry cloud??</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:40:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PUNK_MENACE/pseuds/PUNK_MENACE</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the days before the plate drops on Sector 7, the Turks are tasked with capturing Aerith so that there is no chance of her being harmed. It seems, though, that this time it's not as simple as fighting them off for the time being. Instead, they reach an agreement. Cloud gives himself up for Aerith's freedom. He walks right back into Hojo's lab, not as a SOLDIER, but as a specimen.</p><p>Cloud can't escape, not if it means the Turks go after Aerith again. It's not as if he's capable of getting out by himself. The only way out is getting rescued by the others. And that will have to wait until after Avalanche secures Sector 7's safety. Whatever is waiting for him, he'll have to face it alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>lemon boy and me (we just gotta get along together) [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>336</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i've learned to lose, you can't afford to</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone :) Surprise! Y'all get a multi-chapter fic! I am super excited to share this with you guys :3 It'll be really fun to write. I quite enjoy writing chapter fics, even though I end up looking a lot like that <a href="https://imgflip.com/memetemplate/74331809/Pepe-Silvia">Always Sunny</a> meme. The good thing is that the outline is finished, so updating shouldn't be too sporadic.</p><p>Chapter title is from when the party's over by Billie Eilish.</p><p>Now, this is part of the series, so I suggest reading the fics preceding this one. It's not strictly necessary, but there are differences in canon and character development in this series.</p><p> <br/><b>Listen up, guys. It's going to get dark. Hojo is a very bad person. There will be many potentially triggering situations, (but there will be <i>no</i> non-con) so, please heed the tags and stay safe!!</b></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is a crisp Tuesday morning when Cloud willingly returns to Shinra. Out of all his terrible decisions, this might just be his worst one yet.</p><p> </p><p>Things often go very badly when one is in the business of trying to save the planet from a megalomaniacal, soulless, opportunistic corporation. Recently, things have taken a turn for the worse, somehow. Almost like the universe is trying to one-up itself. Avalanche Don Corneo's claim that Shinra is planning to drop an entire plate on Sector 7. Given Corneo's slimy personality, he might have been bluffing. Insofar, they haven’t found any reliable information. Corneo’s lackeys weren’t in the loop, and only one that had been working against him, Leslie, hasn’t been seen since Corneo’s fortune was seized. He might have heard something about the plate but no one in Wall Market has seen hide nor hair of him for weeks. Tifa went to go see Corneo a little over a week ago on Saturday, and it was on Sunday that Cloud was chosen as Corneo's bride. During the impromptu interrogation, Corneo had revealed that Shinra planned to release the plate in a fortnight.</p><p> </p><p>Two weeks. They had two weeks to investigate if Shinra would go to such lengths, and if it turned out to be true, they had two weeks to either stop it from happening or evacuate. The problem is that Cloud wasted an entire week being sick and then recovering, so he hasn't been much help. Sector 7 residents don’t deserve to lose their homes and livelihoods in one fell swoop, especially not because of Avalanche's presence. Seventh Heaven is precious to Tifa and the others, but there would be no way to pack it up and bring it with her. They’ve been holding out on the hope that the plate drop is a bluff, a psychological tactic, or that there is some way to stop it if the day comes. Cloud hasn't been conscious long enough to burst their bubble, but there is no doubt in his mind that Shinra is dropping the plate. Today they've decided to gather and discuss their next move. Even Aerith is here, though she only tolerates their form of activism.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa chose to keep the bar closed today so that they can meet in peace. Cloud watches as she wipes down the counter for the third time. It’s already clean. She’s clearly nervous about the meeting. Avalanche's activities always make her nervous.</p><p> </p><p>“Now that everyone is here, we can start,” she says, reluctantly letting go of the tea towel.</p><p> </p><p>Barret sits back on a stool. He rests his arms on his knees and nods. “Right.” He looks around at everyone, taking a moment to think through his clashing thoughts. Barret has been torn between fighting a threat head-on and acknowledging there is no way to beat a plate drop with brute force. Today is the day he has to choose. “We’ve all been doing our damnedest to gather information. But Shinra is keeping a chokehold on its loyal dogs. Either they aren’t been told anything about the plate, or Shinra is a bigger threat to them than us.” Barret shakes his head, anger roiling in his eyes. “It’s our duty to keep these slums safe. If that means retreating...then we retreat. Doesn't mean I don't want to beat Shinra's ass if that's an option.” He looks over to Cloud as if to ask, <em>is it an option?</em></p><p> </p><p>The slums aren’t really Cloud’s home - they’ve become something akin to one, but the last place he truly felt at home was Niblheim. He feels stable living here, with everyone's company, but it's not the same. The others have lived in and protected Sector 7 for far longer. That’s why his opinion is valuable. They’re biased - they want to save their homes from being utterly annihilated, and that’s reasonable, but they don’t know Shinra the way he does. Barret barely scraped the surface of the company's atrocities, unlike Cloud. He <em>is </em>one of the company's atrocities; he knows firsthand that Shinra is capable of terrible, unthinkable acts. He’s been more or less humoring them, but with less than a week left, now is not the time to hope for the best. They have to act.</p><p> </p><p>“Shinra doesn’t care about the slums,” Cloud says. “The president doesn’t see you or anyone else under the plates as humans. You’re completely inconsequential. He would absolutely wipe out an entire sector to get rid of you.” The hope in their eyes flickers out and he forces himself to remain neutral. It may hurt being this blunt, but they need to understand. “He’s worse than Hojo. And he has more power than Hojo.” Cloud leans back against the table, digging his back into it, and crosses his arms tightly. It’s hard not to let his emotions boil over when he thinks about that man. Hojo’s experiments are beyond cruel. His treatment of people is almost cartoonishly vile. But now is not the time to think about that.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith, sitting on the other side of the table, nods tersely. "He's right."</p><p> </p><p>Softly, Wedge asks, “Isn’t there anything we can do? I mean...Seventh Heaven is here. My cats...this place is our home. And these people, they don’t deserve this.”</p><p> </p><p>Jessie, tracing her finger on the table, says, "If we don't do anything, everything will be crushed. We'll have to start over somewhere else." Biggs reaches over to pat her meandering hand. He’s been stressed for two weeks straight, and now, his face is almost gaunt from the anxiety. She slips her hand into his and squeezes gently.</p><p> </p><p>Silence falls over the room. Tifa should have spoken next on the matter of abandoning her bar, but she stays quiet, lost in thought. And that’s when he hears it.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud stands suddenly and cocks his head, listening for that faint noise. A repetitive sound pumps through the air, getting louder by the second. It’s the sound of a helicopter.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?” Biggs asks. “What’s happening?”</p><p> </p><p>Without answering, Cloud makes his way to the door. “Stay here. Aerith, don’t leave under any circumstance.”</p><p> </p><p>Her face falls, realization dawning in her eyes. “Cloud, wait.” She jumps to her feet and goes to follow him but he shuts the door solidly before she can take a step, trusting that the others will keep her safe.</p><p> </p><p>The morning is still young, but the racket has already drawn many people out of their homes. Children peek through the legs of their parents. “Get inside,” Cloud shouts sharply. The residents heed his warning, herding their children back indoors. He appreciates the trust they have in him, which makes it much easier to keep them safe. It would be hard to deal with the Turks with a bunch of civilians surrounding them. There’s no reason for the Turks to target random slum residents, but having to monitor collateral damage is a pain in the ass. Now, Cloud’s priority lies in keeping them away from Aerith. </p><p> </p><p>He watches the sky for the approaching helicopter. A black speck appears on the horizon and rapidly expands, bringing with it the deafening roar of blades whirring. It reaches its peak as the helicopter hovers over the clearing in front of Seventh Heaven, setting down slowly, revealing a shock of red hair past the dust cloud.</p><p> </p><p>Reno and Rude step out of the helicopter, their suits perfectly fitted and pressed. Rude wears his trademark sunglasses and Reno wears that same shit-eating smirk.</p><p> </p><p>“Yo,” Reno waves, “First-Class. You waiting for a rematch, blondie?” He sneers, inspecting Seventh Heaven’s sign.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud reaches behind him to grab the hilt of his sword, pulling it from its magnetic rigging. “Leave.”</p><p> </p><p>Reno unsheathes his baton just as quickly. He falls into a ready stance but, as he’s about to leap forward, Rude holds him back by the shoulder. Reno glares back at him, inciting a silent conversation. He lowers his baton after a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“You know who we’re here for, then.” Rude’s sunglasses obscure his expression, making it harder to tell what he's thinking. He's smooth compared to his counterpart, which is preferable to Reno's overwhelming smugness. “You care about her?”</p><p> </p><p>Of course he does. But it’s best to not be so blatant about something that can be used against him. Cloud remains silent, holding his sword out in front of him. He loathes dragging out fights like this with useless conversations, wasting time, and it's far more irritating with the clock ticking. It’s much easier to cut them down and get it over with. There’s something different about the Turks that bothers him, though. Reno is certainly a hothead but Rude has no reason to hold him back in this case. They’re Shinra lapdogs. If they’re supposed to attack, they use their teeth and claws without hesitation. If they’ve been told to fetch, they fetch. It’s that simple. Now that their target is in front of them, they should be trying to wipe out any obstacle in the way.</p><p> </p><p>Rude strolls a bit closer, hands relaxed at his sides. Cloud grips his sword tighter, keeping his guard up, but doesn’t move. They might be trying to flank him to get to Aerith.</p><p> </p><p>Quietly, Rude says, “Shinra is dropping the plate in five days from now. They don’t want Aerith anywhere near it. We’re here to retrieve her and deliver her to Hojo.” Rude stops midway between the helicopter and the bar. He then clasps his hand behind his back. “But we’re also supposed to find <em>you </em>for the president and Hojo.”</p><p> </p><p>Reno drifts closer to Rude. “Yeah, he was real happy after that stunt you pulled in the reactor,” he jeers, pissed about having to put away his baton. Cloud frowns deeper. Neither of them is prepared to fight. There’s no reason the Turks should be in such vulnerable positions.</p><p> </p><p>He <em>has </em>seen a few stray wanted posters. They label him a deserter and a traitor to Shinra. His face is plastered up there, alongside some propaganda and the title "<em>WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE"</em>. Admittedly, no one seems to have paid attention to them. Most people are grateful for his help and bounty hunters know better than to challenge him.</p><p> </p><p>“President Shinra himself has ordered your capture. He wouldn’t be...exceedingly angry if we failed to bring Aerith if, say, we deliver <em>you</em>.” Rude lowers his sunglasses with one hand and gestures with the other. “Understand?”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud takes an involuntary step back, stunned, his sword dipping for a split second. There is no way he could trust them, that much is obvious for all three of them. Rude's offer is baffling. For some reason, they're willing to leave Aerith alone as long as Cloud gives himself up. He thinks of the church when Reno had ordered his subordinates to capture Aerith but didn't allow them to harm her. The footsoldiers were willing to hurt Aerith, but Reno wasn’t. It’s completely illogical unless Reno and Rude care about her in some capacity.</p><p> </p><p>“And if I say no?”</p><p> </p><p>“Then we’ll have to retrieve Aerith.”</p><p> </p><p>“I could stop you. This doesn’t have to be two on one.” They seem convinced that one way or another, they’re capturing <em>someone </em>today.</p><p> </p><p>“Bad idea,” Reno snorts, “Then they’ll send Tseng and troops.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll fight them, too.”</p><p> </p><p>Rude scowls at that. “You can’t guarantee you’ll win. Then your friends will die, and we’ll take you <em>and </em>Aerith.” He shakes his head as if Cloud is just a rookie that’s gotten ahead of himself. “You may be confident in your abilities, but even First-Class SOLDIERs start to break at three hundred to one. Will you run again? That didn't end well last time.” He scoffs. “This is the only way.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Don't know what the fuck he's referencing there, </em>Cloud thinks, even more confused. The last and only time he ran from Shinra, he made his way to Sector 7. Nothing bad in particular happened. More importantly, he knows Rude is right. He can't protect Aerith from the full force of Shinra - and, now that he thinks about it, they're <em>lucky</em> that only the Turks are sent - and she won't want to run. He won't stake her safety on his strength. Cloud can fight as hard as he wants, but he's still human. A mutated human, sure, but flawed all the same. She shouldn't be in Hojo's lab and she shouldn't have to run for the rest of her life.</p><p> </p><p>It seems his only option is to accept.</p><p> </p><p>They’re putting their work and lives on the line by negotiating with him. He’s not sure why Shinra wants Aerith so badly, but it doesn’t matter. The fact is that Turks are supposed to mindlessly carry out the dirty work. Somehow, Aerith has managed to evade getting captured. Cloud realizes abruptly that it’s mostly thanks to Rude and Reno’s hesitancy to leave her in Hojo’s custody. They must know what Shinra wants with her, what Hojo would do to her. Perhaps they found it so repulsive that what little scraps of conscience they still have convinced them to let her go time and again.</p><p> </p><p>He wonders how often the Turks have gone back empty-handed and been reprimanded. It must be getting old by now. They won’t be killed, as that would be a waste of "assets", but Cloud is sure they would be severely punished. Unless, of course, they manage to bring in the traitorous ex-SOLDIER that joined up with the enemy. President Shinra seems eager to make an example of him, after all. It may not be an even trade, but it would likely be enough to temper his displeasure at letting Aerith slip away again.</p><p> </p><p>A part of him recoils at the idea of walking right back into Hojo’s lab. To be honest, he's not sure he would choose the experiments over death. With Shinra backing him, the professor could do virtually whatever he wants to Cloud. He wouldn’t kill Cloud on <em>purpose </em>but his experiments do tend to destroy people's bodies. If Hojo doesn’t kill him, then the beloved president might. A public execution may be too graphic for the company’s image. It doesn't quite scream "friendly" and certainly wouldn't come off as morally righteous, no matter how warped they've made Avalanche's reputation. Shinra doesn't have to make him a martyr to kill him, though, they could very well just shoot him like a dog, off-camera without any fanfare. At any rate, there is a slim chance he’ll survive this, but only if he manages to escape in time. The others might be able to break him out, though he'd rather not indirectly put them in danger. Given the circumstances, he may not have a choice.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud lowers his sword. The Turks take that as a sign to relax marginally. He looks down at the Buster Sword. If he takes it with him, it’ll get swept away somewhere far away from him, deep in the Shinra Tower. Still, the very idea of leaving it behind sends a rush of adrenaline through his blood. His fist tightens around the hilt, heart thudding, every atom of his body screaming at him to keep it with him at all times. It’s his. No other sword compares, even though this one is a bit banged up from his carelessness, it’s <em>his </em>and he’s meant to have it.</p><p> </p><p>Static crackles in his ears, pain stabbing through his head. Cloud grits his teeth, eyes narrowing against the headache. No image comes to mind through the fog but he can almost feel it at the edge of his mind. It fades away, leaving only the sweat on his palms and a terrible feeling in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He can’t lose it. The Buster Sword is safer with his friends than in the hands of Shinra. The very idea of Hojo, or some other Shinra dog, touching <em>his </em>sword fills him with disgust. They deserve to be cut down by his blade, never to handle it. Cloud takes a deep breath and turns around. There is a slit in the blinds, through which he sees Tifa watching them intently. He shifts his hold on the hilt, points the blade at the ground, and brings his sword high above his shoulders. Then, he stabs it down into the dirt. Tifa frowns, and then her eyes widen.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Cloud says curtly. “Let’s go. Quickly.”</p><p> </p><p>He turns on his heel and walks quickly to Rude and Reno. One of them snaps a pair of cuffs in his wrists without a word. They promptly walk him into the helicopter. A moment later, the blades begin to whir again.</p><p> </p><p>Seventh Heaven’s doors swing open. Tifa leads the others out, shouting something, but the helicopter has begun to hover already. By the time they reach his sword, he’s too far to reach. Aerith stands with her hands fisted in her dress, face red, absolutely furious.</p><p> </p><p>He’ll have hell to pay later. But Cloud would never refuse the offer. No matter how angry Aerith is, he would always take her place.</p><p> </p><p>Reno speaks through the headset, “You know what’s waiting for you, right? Hojo doesn’t see you as a person. You’re like a block of meat to him. A very interesting block, sure, but that’s about it.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud watches the slums get farther away. He just has to hold out until he can escape or Avalanche comes to rescue him, whichever comes first. Hopefully the former so the others don’t put themselves in danger. “We’re well-acquainted.” The memories aren't clear, but he knows. He knows the extent of Hojo's cruelty.</p><p> </p><p>They don’t talk after that.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tifa waves the dust out of her face. She watches as the helicopter becomes a mere dot in the sky, then disappears completely. And she feels fury. Fury at Cloud, at those Turks, at Shinra, and the world. It's not that same helplessness like that day all those years ago, though. She is filled with unfathomable frustration, but Tifa has learned a lot since her father died. She can take care of herself and the ones she loves now. Her anger has an outlet.</p><p> </p><p>Turning, she marches toward Cloud’s sword and rips it from the ground. Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie watch her closely, but they seem to understand she's not in the headspace to talk. Tifa passes them by, stomping up the steps and back into Seventh Heaven. While she goes to hide the sword in the backroom, the others follow her back inside.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith is fuming. Her cheeks are a blotchy red and she’s muttering rapidly to herself, probably planning to kick Cloud’s ass as soon as they get him back.</p><p> </p><p>Barret closes the doors behind him. “Did he just do what I think he did?”</p><p> </p><p>“He gave himself up!” Aerith snaps. “Reno and Rude have been trying to capture me for years. Now they needed to get Cloud, too, and- and, <em>ugh</em>.” She paces around, breathing deeply, trying to calm herself. “They were here to get me again, but I’m guessing they made a deal for <em>some</em> reason.”</p><p> </p><p>Wedge, eyes wide, mutters, "He was just talking about how bad Hojo is. But he just went with them, willingly!"</p><p> </p><p>“Those were Turks, right?” Jessie asks. “Why didn’t Cloud just fight them?”</p><p> </p><p>“...I don’t know. He’s won before.” Aerith looks out the window, her frown becoming more worried than angry. “There was something different this time.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll ask him when we get him back,” Tifa says. The Buster Sword is safe in the back, but now she’s thinking they’ll have to bring it along. Escaping from Shinra will be a dangerous operation, which is precisely why they need to help him escape, and though he’s an idiot that got himself captured, Cloud’s expertise will be needed. “If we go now, we can catch the train. Shinra wanted him dead or alive, but now I'm not sure what they'll do to him, so we have to get there quickly--”</p><p> </p><p>Biggs holds his hands up placatingly in a <em>slow down</em> gesture. “Hold on there. We can’t just go traipsing into Shinra’s headquarters without a plan. I’m willing to bet they’re going to hold Cloud either high up in the tower or down in the dungeons. Either way, there’s no way we’re getting to him with a few grappling hooks and sheer luck.”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa feels some of her anger fizzle out. Biggs is right. They need to compose a delicate plan, not go charging straight in. Her first instinct is to go head-first but that is no way to fight an enemy like Shinra. Still, she thinks of when Cloud was sick and the doctor came, how terrified he was of Dr. Hearth, and her heart clenches. She's not that angry at him. She's worried. The realization that a doctor had hurt Cloud brought disgust, but more than that, horror. Horror at what had already happened.</p><p> </p><p>President Shinra said that SOLDIERs die en masse from rapid cellular degeneration. It’s a known fact, not for civilians, but for Shinra. The doctors and scientists working on SOLDIERs knew what they were doing to those people’s bodies. They’re causing active harm. That goes against everything that doctors are meant to do. With their oath already broken, what lengths would the doctors go to? What had they done to Cloud?</p><p> </p><p>What will they do to Cloud now, after he turned his back on Shinra?</p><p> </p><p>She needs to get him back. But they need to act with a precise hand. Looking at Biggs, she can already see the cogs turning in his head. He cares about Cloud, too. She trusts him implicitly, trusts his intellect. She trusts Barret, Jessie, Wedge, and Aerith. They’re her family, as well as Cloud’s, and they’re going to rescue him. </p><p> </p><p>Barret still looks deeply conflicted. "There's still the plate to take care of. Cloud confirmed there's no reason for Shinra to not drop it since they're a bunch of bastards. We have to get everyone out of here soon. Sector 7 is our home, too. It takes time to pack everything up." He looks at Tifa, his expression sober and wary. "I know he's in a tight spot, Tee, but these people can't protect themselves from Shinra. Cloud can."</p><p> </p><p>He's right - the slums are populated by innocent families. They're the farthest thing from SOLDIERs. The last thing Tifa wants is to overestimate Cloud's strength, like when they were trapped in the warehouse, but she also knows how upset he would be if they rescued him before securing the Sector 7 residents. She can't put his life in front of so many others, no matter how terrifying it is to leave him in the hands of Hojo. It's not right. They'll just have to work quickly to get to Cloud in time. And that means they have to start right away.</p><p> </p><p>“Right. Yeah.” Tifa nods and takes a deep breath. “What are you thinking?”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>As soon as they touch down on the landing pad, Cloud is flanked by two guards built like a couple of brick shithouses. They exchange the cuffs for a more heavy-duty pair and then tie a blindfold over his eyes. The new cuffs are basically thick metal tubes that encase his forearms and are connected by a narrow panel. There’s no way to escape them with brute force and he can’t move his arms much. Reno and Rude don’t give him a backward glance as they walk away, presumably to go report to their handler. The guards' hands wrap fully around his elbows. They shove him forward impatiently.</p><p> </p><p>Their touch makes his skin crawl. It will only get worse from here, so Cloud tries to stamp out the disgust. If these guards are putting him on edge, then he’ll be at the end of his rope by the time the scientists get their hands on him. <em>Just need to ride it out</em>, he thinks. <em>Just block it out. Better to be numb.</em></p><p> </p><p>Cloud holds his head high as he’s marched through the halls. They should be taking him to see President Shinra first and he’s going to do his best to give that old man an aneurysm. A healthy dose of disrespect from him, a captured ex-SOLDIER, should be a good starting point.</p><p> </p><p>The guards push him again. Cloud drags his boots over the floor as he steps forward, trying to feel for some sort of hint at where he is and is displeased to feel what he assumes are the ridges of an elevator door beneath him. He hears the hiss of the door closing and then they’re rising quickly. If this elevator leads up to the penthouse office of the president, it probably isn’t open to the public. He files the theory away for later.</p><p> </p><p>They continue to walk through several winding hallways. The blindfold is so tight that he can’t open his eyes and no light filters through. He mentally marks all the turns they’re taking and repeats it back to himself, <em>right, right, left</em>, on and on until they finally come to a stop. Another pair of doors hiss open and a blast of cold air hits him.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, it’s finally here,” a voice exclaims.</p><p> </p><p>That’s not the president.</p><p> </p><p>“Put it over there. And take that silly blindfold off. Then you are dismissed.”</p><p> </p><p><em>No. No, no, no, fuck.</em> Cloud feels the blood drain from his face. A chill racks his spine, a cold sweat springs up across his skin, and his body is screeches at him to run. He shifts his weight to his toes, heels hovering off the ground, muscles tensing to run. But there is nowhere to run to.</p><p> </p><p>The grip on his arms gets harder as the guards all but drag him across the room. A solid shove to the center of his back propels him forward, making his boots catch on the threshold, and he falls on his side. Fortunately, he doesn’t land on the shoulder that had gotten dislocated a week ago. The blindfold is roughly tugged off his head. The guards quickly move away and the door closes.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud blinks to adjust to the sudden light. Looking around makes chest tighten instantly. He’s in a large, cylindrical cell on one side of a large, grey room. There is another identical cell with a figure inside, but with the dim lights, he can’t quite make it out. It doesn’t look humanoid. Across from him, there is an observation room. There are more pods along the walls glowing bright green.</p><p> </p><p>He sits up quickly, arms still wrenched behind his back, and is met with Hojo’s wicked gaze. The man holds his round glasses in one hand, his face alight with cruel, naked glee.</p><p> </p><p>“I had no idea you survived, dear specimen. I thought you were a weakling! A waste of my time! You barely accepted the cells or survived the mako, after all. The other one fared much better but I lost it because of those <em>useless </em>foot soldiers.” Hojo rambles on, talking out loud more so than he is to Cloud. "Ah, well, so is the nature of the hypothesis."</p><p> </p><p>Fear chokes him, building in his throat until it hurts. He’s begun to tremble. His memories are too hazy to remember exactly what Hojo did to him, and he has no idea who ‘the other one’ is, but he’s too busy imagining what's about to be done to him. Cloud wasn’t prepared to be given to Hojo yet. Of course, he <em>knew</em> that was his true destination, but he hadn't processed it. Now it’s unavoidable - the fact that he’s about to endure pain beyond his imagination. He is helpless in the face of his man who, as Reno put it, sees him as a block of meat to dissect.</p><p> </p><p>His head throbs. Cloud recognizes this room even though he doesn't remember ever being in it and it’s making his temples pound. He suspects his headaches are the least of his troubles, but he hopes it’ll taper off. Given his luck, it might just get worse and worse.</p><p> </p><p>“...must begin immediately. Commence recording for SOLDIER specimen, session number one. I will begin with the questioning, as I have had many specimens fall apart from too much stress. But don’t worry. We’ll get to the real research soon.”</p><p> </p><p>He just needs to ride it out. That’s all. On one hand, Cloud doesn’t want to rely completely on the others getting him out, but he’s got limited options as is. He’ll be monitored around the clock, blindfolded and cuffed whenever necessary. It sinks in, then, that he’ll have to wait to be rescued or for an opportunity to present itself. He doesn’t <em>want </em>to be rescued, not if it means inadvertently putting the others in the belly of the beast, so to speak - especially Aerith. But he also doesn't want to get dissected. Or vivisected, whatever it is that Hojo wants to do to him. He wants to be safe. He wants to be anywhere but here.</p><p> </p><p>Hojo holds up his Shinra tablet. His eyes gleam, excitement written all over his pinched, weaselly features. He doesn’t see Cloud. Hojo sees a specimen; he won’t hesitate to cut him open just to see what held him together. Cloud is a fly in his web, waiting to be picked apart. And there is no way out.</p><p> </p><p>“Let us begin.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! I've already started on the next one :D Spoiler: things get exponentially worse for poor Cloud.</p><p>Comments feed my motivation! It's always nice to know I'm posting fics to an eager audience. Here's my <a href="https://james-writes-occasionally.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>. Feel free to drop by and chat or whatever.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. what if the clouds run out of rain?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tifa and Barret ask a favor and deliver the news. Hojo asks some personal questions. A couple of interns don't seem to understand the concept of personal space or ethics.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title is from Lemon Boy by Cavetown.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wall Market is not so dazzling in the day. In fact, Tifa would say it looks washed-out without the neon lights to blind her. People aren’t dressed as nicely since the platesiders that come down for a taste of debauchery are working at this time of day. Instead, the only ones left are those that have nowhere else to go.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa and Barret have come to Wall Market to ask the Trio for help in relocating the Sector 7 refugees. Earlier in the morning, after Cloud was taken, they straightened out a plan on how to handle moving such a large group of people. First, they need a place to stay. Tifa won’t stand in front of those families and tell them they have to leave their homes and not have an answer as to where exactly they’ll go. So, she and Barret are going to ask the Trio, through Chocobo Sam, to help put together some emergency housing. </p><p> </p><p>Along with that, they’ll ask Sam if he can help with infiltrating Shinra Tower. Biggs had the idea that instead of a full-frontal assault, it would be much smarter to take a stealthier approach. The Trio might be able to help them get into Shinra Tower with some forged IDs. They have a lot of power and resources, so hopefully, they can pull some strings. Cloud had endeared himself to them, especially Andrea, and so there should be no problem in convincing them. The problem is getting to Cloud quickly enough. The plan is to pose as Shinra workers to get up to Hojo's lab without causing a fuss. They’re not <em>certain </em>if that’s where Cloud is being held, but Aerith said that she knows exactly where the lab is, so that's where they're shooting for. Tifa, Aerith, Biggs, and Jessie will infiltrate in civvies to blend in with the other office workers and facilitate Barret and Wedge’s entrance. Barret’s face and weapon are too recognizable and the infiltration team had enough members, so Wedge volunteered to stay in the shadows. He’d also been nervous at the idea of concealing his identity in the middle of Shinra’s headquarters, which is understandable. If their disguises aren’t good enough or some other complication makes the plan fall through, they’ll be like fish in a barrel, stuck in the Tower with no immediate way out.</p><p> </p><p>In any case, their first step forward is to secure the refugees' safety.</p><p> </p><p>Barret looks around at the mostly-empty buildings with disdain. He doesn’t like Wall Market, doesn’t like what it stands for, or the people that frequent it, but that's exactly why he wouldn’t let Tifa go alone. He also refused to ask such a big favor from someone without meeting them face-to-face and expressing his gratitude. Barret's pride wouldn't let him sit back while Tifa went to go plead with the Trio.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa can't wait for a colosseum fight when the Trio meets, so she's chosen to see Sam, who can pass the message on to the rest of the Trio. He’s tending to one of his beloved Chocobos when he spots Tifa.</p><p> </p><p>“Tifa, it’s good to see you.” He gives her a crooked grin. “And you brought a friend.”</p><p> </p><p>She smiles, though she knows it doesn’t reach her eyes, and says, “It’s nice to see you, too. Sam, this is Barret. He’s a good friend of mine.”</p><p> </p><p>Barret holds his hand out. His gun is on his right, so most people fumble when they go to shake his hand, raising their right hand before remembering they need to shake with their left. Sam, though, takes it in stride and gives him a hearty handshake. </p><p> </p><p>“Pleasure to meet you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry to come to you without warning, but we need help.” Tifa starts to wring her hands slightly, trying to get her nervous energy out. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, sure. What can I do for you?”</p><p> </p><p>“When I came to see Corneo, you know that Cloud and Aerith came to break me out. Cloud got picked, so Aerith and I went to help him. When we confronted Corneo, he said that Shinra is going to drop a plate on Sector 7 as punishment for Avalanche’s actions.” Sam’s expression goes rapidly from shock to grim acceptance. “He said it would happen in two weeks. We have five days left to evacuate everyone in Sector 7, and we’re here to ask that you help us provide emergency housing for the families that’ll be displaced.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam nods, scratching at his beard. He hums. “Yeah, we can help with that. That’s a terrible situation, Tifa. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa lets out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t thought Sam would turn her away, but knowing that there is someone else out there that knows what’s going to happen to Sector 7 is a huge comfort. Sam, Madam M, and Andrea are capable to help the refugees - now the full extent of the responsibility doesn’t fall solely on Avalanche’s shoulders. They still have to break the news and organize the move, but they have somewhere to go now, people to rely on. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you so much, Sam. With your help, the relocation should be easier for everyone. We’re in your debt.”</p><p> </p><p>He shakes his head resolutely. “‘Course not. It’s not on you that Shinra’s a heartless bastard. He's the one dropping the plate, not you. I’ll go tell Andrea and Madam M. We’ll coordinate on money distribution, volunteers, the works. Anything else y’all need?”</p><p> </p><p>“We appreciate the help,” Barret says. He takes his sunglasses off as a gesture of respect. “But there is something else. You familiar with the Turks?” Sam nods. “Cloud just gave himself up to them.”</p><p> </p><p>“He gets himself into sticky situations constantly, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“All the time.” Tifa nods. “He did it to keep Aerith safe. This time, though...it’s not looking good. We need to get him back as soon as possible.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s your plan? It won’t be easy getting in and out. I saw the wanted posters, it’s obvious Shinra really wanted to get his hands on Cloud.” Sam strokes his hand over his Chocobo, his eyes troubled. “He’s in some real hot water.”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa lays out the plan for him, explaining that they need Shinra IDs to get to Hojo’s lab without being caught. Sam agrees that an ambush wouldn't be an efficient strategy, then goes inside to make some calls about the IDs. </p><p> </p><p>“We’ll get him soon, Tee.” </p><p> </p><p>“I know,” she says. “I’m worried.”</p><p> </p><p>Barret nods, then grumbles to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah...me too. But you know Cloud is a stubborn asshole. Kinda like a weed, I think, since we can't get rid of him. He’s strong.”</p><p> </p><p>That makes her smile, though it’s small. She cocks her head in faux surprise. “You care about Cloud, don’t you? You’ve warmed up to him!”</p><p> </p><p>He gives her a stale glare. “No. <em>No</em>. I just- he…” Barret flicks his sunglasses open and slides them back on. “Fine. The little shit isn’t as unbearable to be around as I thought he was.”</p><p> </p><p>She leans her head on his arm. It was obvious he cared about Cloud ever since he offered him a lollipop all those nights ago. Barret would never show that softer side to someone he didn't trust. They had warmed up to each other gradually. It makes her happy to know her little family is getting along more. But she can’t relish in it, she can’t feel happy for long until the stress comes back to sit heavy on her chest. The plate dropping all while Cloud is in Hojo’s clutches is the worst-case scenario.</p><p> </p><p>She can't imagine the horrors of that lab for her own sanity. If she allows that panic to creep up on her, her mind is invaded with images of Cloud covered in blood, reminding her that every second they aren't going after him is a second he's in terrible danger. If that weren't enough to break her down, Sector 7 is going to be decimated. Completely eradicated. Seventh Heaven, her dream, will be nothing more than rubble.</p><p> </p><p>She knows the layout like the back of her hand. She hand-picked each liquor with care, learned the mixing techniques, spent the nights balancing the books, and put in hours and hours of serving her beloved friends in that bar. In five days, it’ll all be gone forever. Grief begins to creep in, making her eyes sting with tears. Tifa clenches her fists tightly until the leather creaks, unwilling to be slowed down by her emotions.</p><p> </p><p>Sam emerges then, allowing her to focus on him instead of her grief. Now is not the time to be weighed down with her loss. There will be time for that when everyone is safe. She needs to be strong for Sector 7, for Cloud.</p><p> </p><p>“I can get you four IDs in two days at the latest. It’ll take at least a day, though, so there’s no chance of rescuing Cloud today. In the meantime, I’ll get everything ready to accept the refugees so you can bring ‘em over tomorrow if you’d like. We’ll have a camp ready.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t thank you enough, Sam.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s no problem. I'm glad to be of help.”</p><p> </p><p>They exchange phone numbers for when the IDs are ready. With the camp being set up, they can go and break the news to the Sector 7 residents. It’ll take some time to pack up, but honestly, not a lot of people have that many possessions valuable enough to take with them.</p><p> </p><p>With the camp taken care of, Tifa and Barret begin the trek back. They walk in companionable silence, allowing her to take some time to think through how to deliver the news. She turns the phrasing over in her mind again and again, searching for a way to make it less painful. <em> We have to move. We have to make our homes anew. It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay, as long as we have each other</em>.</p><p> </p><p>At least that much is true. Material possessions are nothing compared to having your family safe and sound. It still sounds like an empty platitude. People's lives are going to be uprooted, their homes destroyed. Tifa knows there is nothing she can say that will take the edge off because there is nothing that will ease the blow of losing Seventh Heaven. All she can do is make sure they’re safe. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Have you experienced any symptoms of rapid cellular degeneration? Nausea, vomiting, hair loss, weight loss, muscle and bone density degradation, internal bleeding, or memory loss?"</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck off.”</p><p> </p><p>"...Well, I suppose I need not ask. That can be answered when we take samples as well as through pure observation. Except for the memory loss. However, memory loss is often brought on by dementia, and so we may be able to estimate through observation as well.” Hojo jots something down. “Have you, in the past five years, ever felt a force beckoning you? As though you are searching for something? Perhaps you’ve felt as though you know where you must go, but not where it is?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck you.” <em> What the hell does that even mean? </em></p><p> </p><p>He sighs in displeasure, lowering his clipboard. “I’m going to have you in my lab for a long time. Eventually, you’ll feel more inclined to comply, but I’m quite displeased with your behavior. Not that I expected anything better, coming from a lowly creature such as yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“Go fuck yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>The wrinkles on Hojo’s face scrunch up. He stands up straighter, tightening his grip on the clipboard. Then, he sighs in disappointment. “Word of mouth is never as reliable as pure data. I will just have to get straight to extracting samples. Alexis!” Hojo calls out. Seconds later, a stick-thin man appears in the observation room. His black hair is shaggy and falls over his eyes, but not unkempt. He looks to be in his late twenties, is incredibly pale, and, overall, not very intimidating. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Professor?” Alexis looks down at Hojo, though his eyes dart eagerly to Cloud’s container. His voice is as weak and thin as his figure. </p><p> </p><p>“Bring Dana in and extract samples. Blood, hair, skin - a full procedure. The specimen will need to be sedated. SOLDIERs are physically enhanced, and this one could kill you even with its hands bound.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud glares up at Alexis, watching as he smiles excitedly. “Yes, sir.” </p><p> </p><p>“While you’re at it, feel free to muzzle it.”</p><p> </p><p>Alexis nods and scurries away. </p><p> </p><p>Damn sociopathic interns. Cloud sits against the back of the container and wiggles his hands around to try to get the blood flowing again. His efforts are in vain as long as the cuffs are still on him. Hojo has been asking him questions for nearly an hour. They started basic, like what his pain threshold is on a scale of one to ten. Each question became more complex and personal, and the way he asked them made Cloud shiver under his gaze. Then he asked that ridiculous question about the invisible force. Apart from that, Hojo hasn’t done anything, which is somehow mind-numbingly boring. It’s not that Cloud wants to get experimented on, much less have that fishbone of a man <em>touching </em>him while he’s unconscious, but he’d much rather be beating Hojo to a pulp. Sitting and waiting for the pain to come is unsettling, to say the least.</p><p> </p><p>A low hiss begins to fill the container. Cloud jumps to his feet as best he can and approaches the thick green glass. Hojo stands off to one side with his hands behind his back, watching silently. The glass fogs up from whatever they’re pumping. It’s a sedative, judging by the dizziness rapidly setting in. His eyes unfocus and the world tilts so violently that Cloud finds himself stumbling backward and falling on his ass. It must be the equivalent of a heaping double- or triple-dose of horse tranquilizers. He would never be this incapacitated by a regular sedative. </p><p> </p><p>A woman with a platinum blonde braid enters the room. She walks with a heavy limp, but not without confidence, and she proudly presents a kit of some sort. She wears a spotless white lab coat like her colleagues.</p><p> </p><p>“Everything we need for a full course of samples,” She announces, “How exciting!”</p><p> </p><p>He feels like a feral dog. Trapped in a cage, helpless and rabid with fear. The two assistants come closer to the container and he scoots backward instinctually. A growl builds in his throat, face contorted in a snarl, desperately trying to stay awake. His limbs are too weak to hold him up. Cloud slides down the wall onto his side, blinking slowly as the door glides open. His freedom is right there in front of him. And all he can do is curl up, pitiful, as the assistants descend on him hungrily. The world falls away and the last thing he feels is a pair of hands on his body.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When he wakes up, his skin feels like it’s covered in a film of grime. It’s not, of course, but Cloud knows he’s been touched and moved and probed while he was unconscious, and he wants to throw up. They stripped him down to his boxers while they were at it.</p><p> </p><p>The small of his back is deeply sore and his head feels stuffed full of cotton. His left arm has a pinprick in it, and a vivid purple bruise has already appeared. There is a spot on the back of his neck that burns, but his priorities lie more in his surroundings. The pain is inconsequential and overshadowed by the presence of a metal muzzle keeping his jaw clamped tightly shut. It wraps around his face and halfway up his nose, but he can breathe well. Hojo must not have enjoyed his explicit responses.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud goes to rub his eyes reflexively and is pleased to find that, for some reason, his arms have been released. He sits up slowly, head pounding viciously, and notes that he was moved onto his back in the middle of the container. The door is back in place. Squinting, he reaches up to pinch a lock of his hair and sees that it’s been trimmed flat. Cloud swallows and tries not to think about who did what to him. Dana wasn’t as visually off-putting as Alexis but she was veering toward a peppy attitude, and considering what they’re going to do to him, she is just as disturbing as her counterpart. </p><p> </p><p>Then he looks through the glass and sees a tall man watching him. His heart skips a beat, though he refuses to react when he registers that he was being watched while unconscious. The man is wearing a typical Turk suit, his long black hair reaching well beyond his shoulders. His face holds no trace of emotion. Not even contempt.</p><p> </p><p>“Cloud Strife,” he says, “We meet again. I have been sent here to gather a report for President Shinra.” His voice is soft, but the complete opposite of Alexis's. Cold and calculating, yet he doesn’t seem to hold any particular ill will toward Cloud. They've allegedly met before, though, which sets off a spike of pain. His head has not stopped hurting since he stepped foot in this lab, so when the pain gets worse, it's a drastic change. Cloud clenches his fists, his ears ringing loudly, waiting for it to ebb. It doesn't.</p><p> </p><p>At least none of the scientists are currently in the room. Maybe they were shooed out by Tseng. Cloud doesn't remember him in the slightest, but if he's responsible for getting Hojo away even for a moment, he might not be overtly evil. Then again, he's still woozy from the sedative, so he's not thinking clearly. His apprehension for Tseng is well outweighed by his fear of Hojo.</p><p> </p><p>“I will also remind you to be on your best behavior.” Tseng steps closer to the glass. “If you are not,” his eyes flick to Cloud’s muzzle, “President Shinra will be very unhappy with <em>your </em>capture. If you fail to meet Hojo’s standards, you and the Turks that brought you will be severely punished.” He tilts his head, eyes still calm and empty. “Is that clear?”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud mulls over his words. Tseng mentioned his capture specifically. Most likely, it means that if Cloud isn’t a good enough toy for Hojo, he’ll tell the president, and the Turks will be forced to go after Aerith sooner rather than later. <em> Fine, then. </em>Cloud won’t roll over, but he’ll stop actively fighting. He, admittedly, hadn't quite thought through his decision to trade himself for Aerith. The idea of leaving her in Hojo's lab left him bare of any reasoning. Whatever Hojo did to him in the past had left a deep, untended wound in his mind, and it came back to bite him. Regardless, he's willing to do anything to keep her and the others safe, but now that he's here, a few issues come to mind. Primarily the fact that there is no guarantee the Turks won't eventually go after Aerith. If Cloud ever gets out of here, there probably isn't anything stopping them from getting her. For the time being, he’ll let them take as many samples as they want. As long as it keeps Aerith out of this lab. He nods once.</p><p> </p><p>Tseng turns and leaves without another word. As soon as he’s out of sight, Hojo and his assistants come back into the lab. Dana and Alexis file behind the professor, who comes to a stop in front of the container. </p><p> </p><p>“Commence recording for SOLDIER specimen, session number two. Blood, hair, skin, saliva, and spinal fluid samples were extracted. Specimen awoke forty-five minutes after it was dosed with SOLDIER-level sedative, indicating a typical metabolism. We will now move on to the first baseline test, regarding endurance.” Hojo turns to Alexis and says, “Alexis, prepare the specimen for the test. Dana, set the treadmill for a full eight hours, alternating speeds. No need for sedatives or monitors with the implant in place.” Hojo and Dana then leave through another doorway, presumably to the room with the treadmill.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud sits utterly frozen.</p><p> </p><p>The door of his container opens. He doesn’t notice.</p><p> </p><p><em> The implant. </em> There is an implant inside him. <em> The implant. </em> They put something <em>inside </em>him. <em> No need for sedatives or monitors with the implant</em>. What does that mean?</p><p> </p><p>Alexis is holding a remote that fits in the palm of his hand. He drops a pair of running shoes, a thin, black shirt, pants, and socks on the floor in front of Cloud. “Put those on.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud stares up at him, uncomprehending. <em>Implant.</em> <em>Where?</em> <em>Where is it?</em></p><p> </p><p>“Alright, then.” He presses a button on the remote. </p><p> </p><p>Instantly, searing hot pain bolts down his spine. He sits up ramrod straight, his muscles clenching unbearably. His vision whites out, jaw straining against the muzzle as he screams silently, unable to move or breathe. It passes quickly, leaving the sensation of pins and needles all over his body. Cloud collapses, curling his arm around his convulsing stomach, twitching uncontrollably and gasping like a fish out of water. </p><p> </p><p>“Put them on or I’ll do that again. Every time you disobey, I'll leave it on longer.”</p><p> </p><p>So that’s why they don’t need to sedate him. Instead of troubling themselves with the hassle of drugging Cloud, they opted to insert some sort of device in his neck. He reaches back to the spot that burns and feels, to his horror, a cauterized incision about an inch long and a small, hard disc resting on one of his vertebrae. </p><p> </p><p>“These nerve signals have long-term consequences if applied generously,” Alexis says, “So I suggest you get going.”</p><p> </p><p>Robotically, Cloud climbs back up to his knees and grabs the pants. The muzzle keeps him from speaking, not that he has anything in mind other than the implant. He stands, straining to do so steadily. Every muscle in his body feels fried and overextended. Cloud slips the clothes and sneakers on, his back aching from all the movement and bending. </p><p> </p><p>Once he’s done, Alexis jerks his head at the hall through which Hojo went. Two guards flank Cloud, grabbing his arms, and the four of them make their way to an adjacent room. Inside, Dana and Hojo stand next to a large treadmill. It doesn’t have a console attached to it or handrails, only a track. There are other contraptions around the room, but he couldn't begin to tell what they're meant for.</p><p> </p><p>“Step up here,” Dana says. She waves at the treadmill. Cloud pulls his arms away from the guards. Once he’s in place, she takes the oxygen cart and starts inserting the tubes. One goes in the tank, then it’s connected to a long tube, and that splits into two smaller tubes. She hefts the tank from the cart and sets it down in front of Cloud. “Bend down.” </p><p> </p><p>The soreness in his back is easing up, but it still twinges when he bends down. Once he’s within reach, Dana grabs his muzzle in one hand and tugs him down lower before inserting the smallest tubes into two ports in his muzzle. They click into place. She pulls on them experimentally, satisfied when they stay connected. Dana turns a knob on the tank and oxygen begins flowing over Cloud’s mouth and nose. With that done, she pulls a thick cord that is attached to the front of the treadmill. As she pulls it free, he sees that the end has a metal collar. It’s split into sections, resembling a two-pronged claw, and the metal is at least two inches thick. This time, she grabs the end of the oxygen tube and pulls him down with that, until she can secure the collar around his neck. It closes with a heavy <em>clack</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“It's set for eight consecutive hours, no rest. We’ll be alerted when this tank runs out.” She steps away from the machine and looks over the console.</p><p> </p><p>Alexis fiddles with the remote again, but no pain comes this time. He points it at a large monitor on the wall, which turns on, displaying a few fluctuating lines. “Ready.” </p><p> </p><p>The monitor is distracting with its constant beeping, showing numbers that he doesn’t understand. His oxygen intake and heart rate are being recorded, that much he knows, but the shock from the implant somewhat scrambled his brain. He can barely focus on what’s directly in front of him, much less understand what Hojo and his assistants are discussing. They throw around acronyms and strings of jargon in a quick conversation. Cloud steadies his breathing until they’re done.</p><p> </p><p>Hojo checks the readings once more. “Begin.”</p><p> </p><p>The treadmill whirs to life, throwing him into a brisk jog. If he slows down at all, the cable is pulled taut so the collar jerks him by the neck. There's no way to escape - the implant renders him completely useless. He'll have to stay put and behave.</p><p> </p><p>For the next eight hours, the treadmill will fluctuate wildly in speed, from jogging to a flat-out sprint. So, he runs. And runs.</p><p> </p><p>And runs.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tifa asked Wymer to gather up everyone in Sector 7 around half an hour ago. Now, she stands on Seventh Heaven’s deck, looking over every resident of her home slums. Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge stand to her left, and  Barret to her right. The sun is beginning to set and the camp is steadily being set up around Wall Market. They’ll relocate tomorrow morning so there are fewer monsters around. There’s nothing left but to explain the situation.</p><p> </p><p>Barret raises his hand and immediately, the low murmur cuts off. Tifa looks over the crowd of worried, confused faces and wills the knot in her throat to dissolve.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for coming,” Barret says, “There’s something you all need to know. I won’t beat around the bush. You deserve better than that.” He paces closer to the crowd. “Shinra is planning on dropping a plate on Sector 7.”</p><p> </p><p>Before he can continue, the crowd erupts in panicked yells. Questions and accusations fly in equal parts as parents clutch their children closer. Some are shocked beyond words, some turn to anger, and some have devastation stark on their faces. Tifa steps forward to stand beside Barret and raises both hands to plead for silence. She sees Marle chastise a few outraged people beside her and, slowly, the noise dies down. </p><p> </p><p>“Please, everyone, don’t be afraid. We have plenty of time to evacuate safely.” Her voice carries over the crowd, strong enough to reach the edges. She hopes that years of serving people in her bar, opening her doors to feed and talk to them, gives her some sort of reputation. Thankfully, she sees many people listening intently. Marle gives her a shaky smile which bolsters her determination. “I’m so sorry that this is happening. You all know how much I love Seventh Heaven. But we have to go, and soon. We have an agreement with the Trio of Wall Market, they’re going to help you all have a safe place to live for the time being. The plate is supposed to drop in five days. The camp will be ready to receive you all tomorrow, so please, gather your belongings tonight so that we can help you relocate tomorrow morning.”</p><p> </p><p>Wymer comes to the front of the crowd. “Why would Shinra do this? I- I mean, they’re bad people, but <em>we </em>haven’t done anything.”</p><p> </p><p>At this, Biggs speaks up. “Shinra doesn’t care about us, the people under the plate. They just don’t. Dropping a plate on us is worth it if they can manage to land a hit on Avalanche, even without knowing that group is here.” He doesn’t look as haggard as he did in the morning. Biggs, with his overthinking nature, thrives on having a plan set out in front of him. Not knowing what they were going to do about the plate had pushed him nearly to his limit. She’s glad he’s found some solace. </p><p> </p><p>“I know it’s a bad situation,” Jessie says. She’s popular around the slums for her bubbly personality, so her words should be able to soothe them. “This place is our home, for better or worse. But we can rebuild somewhere else. Shinra can’t take us down that easily!”</p><p> </p><p>She’s right. Even now, people are starting to rally. The thing about living in poverty is that people grow a thicker skin. They shouldn’t have to, of course, but that’s the nature of living under the plate. You toughen up or you die. There are outliers, thanks to people like Cloud that do their best to protect softer souls, but it’s very hard to stay innocent in the slums. People become distrustful and cynical, but at the same time, they are capable of creating amazing communities. Sector 7 is one of those communities. They’ll get through this with each other’s help.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa watches as Wedge slings an arm around Jessie and Biggs. “It’s not like we’re a bunch of platesiders, y’know! I don’t have any fancy crap to lug around. What matters is that we have each other!” He tugs them closer. Jessie lets out a small laugh.</p><p> </p><p>The crowd has calmed by now, and some people even cheer at Wedge’s words. Another side effect of living in the slums is that when things take a turn for the worse, people tend to roll with the punches. </p><p> </p><p>“Right!” Even Barret’s somber expression has lightened up. “We can build a new neighborhood somewhere else. We’re stronger together, and <em>nothing </em>Shinra throws at us can change that. Don’t worry,” he spreads his hands, “We’re here for you! Rely on each other, and we can do anything. Take care of each other, and there’s nothing that can stop us.” More and more people cheer for him. Barret does have a way with words, after all. Tifa feels her lips quirk up in a smile. His spirit is infectious. "Shinra will <em>not</em> take us down!"</p><p> </p><p>“The Neighborhood Watch will escort you to the camp tomorrow morning. There will be time to come back in case you forgot anything, but please do make sure you’re ready to evacuate.” She has to speak over the crowd a bit, but it’s not so bad. The shell-shocked look is mostly gone. Everyone’s words got through to them.</p><p> </p><p>The crowd disperses as people begin to pack up, bustling around. Marle stays behind and beckons her down. She wraps Tifa in a hug as soon as she’s within arm’s reach.</p><p> </p><p>“You did well, dear girl.” She leans back to look at Tifa. “You did very well.” </p><p> </p><p>Tifa shakes her head. “It was nothing. Everyone's being so strong.”</p><p> </p><p>Marle lets her go with a fond expression on her face. “You’re being very strong for them, Tifa. I’m proud of you. Now, I’ve got to go pack up my apartment and help Marco out.” She pats Tifa’s cheek tenderly once before pulling away.</p><p> </p><p>They’re all going to be safe, well away from the disaster. It’s reassuring to know that there’s at least one less thing to worry about. The monsters on the way to Wall Market are nothing, and once everyone has been relocated, they just have to wait for Sam to get the forged IDs. Then, they can rescue Cloud.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa looks up at the night sky. All she can see is the plate, but there are some sections through which she can see the stars. They’re weak, barely-there from the light pollution and fumes. But they’re there. She thinks of that night so long ago, of her and Cloud's promise. She thought, back then, that she would need someone like Cloud to rescue her. He was going off to be a SOLDIER, after all, and Tifa would stay behind in their hometown. It was just the way the world worked. Now she knows better. Zangan taught her that she has immeasurable strength and that she use it to protect the ones she loves.  </p><p> </p><p>She'll save Cloud. She'll rescue him and take care of her family. There is no doubt in her mind, not anymore, not with everyone by her side. Tifa just has to trust that Cloud will be able to survive alone.</p><p> </p><p><em>Wait for me, </em>she thinks, looking up at the stars, <em>And be brave, please</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you liked this chapter! I belive the next one will be a lot longer. This is only the beginning for Cloud. By the way, if there are any tags I missed, please do tell me! I want everyone to be safe.</p><p>Come swing by my <a href="https://james-writes-occasionally.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>! I might just provide out-of-context spoilers because I think they're fun and hilarious. Or we could just chat! I also just posted some art I made of a scene from <i>bloody and bruised (brought to my knees)</i>.</p><p>Thank you all so, <i>so</i> much for your wonderful support! It was a delight to see so many people comment on just the first chapter! I hope the rest of them will be even better for you guys &lt;3 Cya next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. a price paid in full but they keep asking for more</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“The fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am alone.” </p><p>-Mary Shelley, <i>Frankenstein</i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Uhh fair warning, I'm not a doctor or a scientist, so things will not be perfectly accurate. Sorry! I’m doing my best with the power of Google and anime on my side.</p><p>A more serious warning: 90% of this chapter will be torture/experiments and overall Cloud getting beat up and treated badly. Descriptions will be graphic. </p><p><b>Please heed the tags!</b> The 'dead dove' tag is a reminder that you should be prepared. It's meant to be a 'don't be surprised' tag. <b>I update tags for each chapter.</b> Stay safe. The new tags for this chapter begin w/ "Nudity" and end at "Mentioned Zack Fair". This one, in particular, has markers for <b>eye gore/eye trauma</b>, <b>needles</b>, and <b>amputation</b>. They're all in the same section.</p><p>If anyone wants me to add some of these bad boys *** to mark a specific section containing a trigger(s) I will <i>absolutely</i> do so. DM me and I will apply the markers to any and all chapters containing the trigger.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Running clears his mind.</p><p> </p><p>It sweeps through, brushing all thoughts away. Such simple movement, and yet it's one of the only times Cloud can clear his mind. Even now, it's no different.</p><p> </p><p>But he couldn't block out his hate even if he wanted to. The guards are out of view. Hojo and his assistants came a few times during the night to change the oxygen canister. Alone as he is, he knows he's being observed. He thinks about them, the scientists and the guards. It's not so much a controlled train of thought. His chest burns with anger. It hangs above him, fueling him.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud runs and runs, and after the first hour has to work to stay in proper form. His muscles begin to feel overwhelmed after two hours. Eventually, jogging becomes a respite compared to the stretches of full-tilt sprints. By the third hour, every inch of him is covered in sweat, dripping into his eyes and off his chin. The oxygen being pumped through his muzzle helps to keep the dizziness away up until the fourth hour. By then, his lungs are on fire and no amount of oxygen could soothe that. His head feels like it’s in a vice. His knees are taking a beating despite staying in approximately the correct running form. Exhaustion threatens to tip him over, but Cloud refuses to give in, refuses to be dragged along the treadmill by the neck.</p><p> </p><p>Sometime around the fifth hour, when time is no longer a concept he cares about, the pain erupting all over his body becomes too much. He reaches his limit. The monitor displaying his heart rate beeps wildly and the last coherent thought he has is his wish to crack the screen in half.</p><p> </p><p>After that, he’s not really human anymore, can’t afford to be. Even a SOLDIER can’t run for eight hours straight. Everything shrinks to his aching body and his footsteps on the treadmill. His arms pump until his biceps are fit to burst, his calves stretch and contract until they’re searing. His thighs and hips felt overextended. The pain is worsened by the after-effects of whatever the implant did to him. Something about his nerves, maybe. It doesn’t matter. Nothing does. Reason falls away, leaving only a primal urge forcing him forward.</p><p> </p><p>At some point, he must reach eight hours. The treadmill begins to wind down much slower than it has before and the console by the wall beeps. The collar doesn’t release from his neck, but he doesn’t care. Cloud collapses as soon as physically possible and<em> breathes</em>. His chest heaves as he desperately sucks in lungfuls so quickly he edges on hyperventilation. The oxygen ran out just as the treadmill turned off, and the discrepancy in his intake causes black spots to litter his vision. Lying on his side, he feels drool start to smear on the side of his face, tears of exertion mixing with his sweat. His whole body is trembling and his headache has increased tenfold. <em> Dehydration</em>, he thinks vaguely. The room tilts this way and that. He needs water, a bathroom, and food - he needed all that while ago, but now every ache in his body amplifies his deficiency. </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, he’s grabbed by the arms and dragged upward. Cloud screams, unable to keep it back in his exhausted state, as his shredded muscles are pulled on mercilessly. His joints feel swollen and unwilling to hold him up, but the guards who’ve grabbed him give him no choice. They drag him off the treadmill, holding him up so he can more or less walk. He takes a few harried steps but is incapable of keeping up with their brisk pace and stumbles, his legs trailing uselessly behind him. Waves of pain render him pliant. Cloud tries his best to keep his head up but can’t help as it begins to flag. His chin ends up resting on his chest.</p><p> </p><p>The guards stop outside a door. One of them opens it while the other takes his muzzle off by pressing something onto the back of it. They push him in and slam the door. It closes with the click of a heavy lock. The room is illuminated by dim lights that do nothing to make the gunmetal grey walls look any less imposing. He falls limp onto his knees, then crumples onto his side in front of the twin-sized bed. There’s nothing in here besides a toilet, a small sink, and the bed. </p><p> </p><p>He lies on the floor curled up on his side until he stops wheezing. Cloud ever so slowly starts to pull his limbs closer and attempts to sit up. His stomach is clenching from hunger pangs and he needs to relieve himself, but moving feels like an impossible task. He gets an arm under him and several minutes later is able to sit against the bed, his movements jerky and inconsistent. His muscles twitch and spasm randomly. The floor is blessedly cold and the tightly-tucked sheets allow him to wipe the sweat and drool from his face. After some time, his breathing is mostly even and the sweat has cooled against his skin. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud blinks tiredly and looks around the room again. As he does, the flap in the door swings open as a covered plate is pushed through. He can’t quite move yet, definitely not enough to grab what must be a meal, so he sits and stares at the wall instead. Soon enough, though, he must force himself to stand to get to the toilet. It’s agony. His muscles aren’t sore yet, though they’re approaching it, they feel weak and too hot. The very thought of standing is almost too daunting. In the end, he pulls himself up with the bed and uses the wall as support to get to the toilet. Then, he uses the wall again to make his way to the door to pick up his meal.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud tries to lift the tray, then decides he doesn’t mind eating on the floor. He sets the lid down at his side and surveys what they’ve given him. A small bread roll, some rice, vegetables, and chicken. There’s also a generously-sized water bottle. He stares at the meal, trying to wrap his head around the fact that it doesn’t look that dubious. It smells nice. His stomach growls loudly. He's not sure why they gave him food that actually looks like <em>food </em>and not just a pile of slop. Maybe, like a responsible pet owner, they're trying to provide him with a complete diet. How nice of them.</p><p> </p><p>If it’s poisoned, there’s no use skipping it. Cloud just burned way too much energy and he’s not sure how long he’s going to be stuck here. If he doesn’t eat or drink at all, he’ll die well before Avalanche can break him out. His survival instincts are also screaming at him to eat or die, so Cloud picks up his plastic plate and digs in. They didn’t provide any utensils, probably so that he doesn’t have any sort of weapon. He could very well use the tray to kill someone or sharpen the plate into a shiv, but it’s not worth it. Perhaps he’ll have to dig the implant out himself, which is a very tempting idea, but he’s starting to formulate a different plan. While getting the implant out now is almost too appealing, he thinks he might have a possible timeline for getting out. </p><p> </p><p>About a day has passed since he gave himself to the Turks. There are no clocks or windows, so he can’t be completely sure, but if it’s Wednesday today then only four days are left until the plate drops. There’s a chance that in the chaos of the destruction, Cloud could escape without putting Aerith in danger. People all over Midgar, both above and below the plate, will be distracted. Escaping Shinra Tower will most likely be a mess no matter what, but with the turmoil, he’ll have more cover to disappear into. Along with that, Aerith would be easier to hide. Sector 7 is Avalanche’s only known post, so if he escapes after it's destroyed and manages to get everyone to lie low instead of retaliating against Shinra, Aerith could be safe from the Turks. Shinra is persistent, so running around Midgar to outrun the Turks won’t work for very long, but it’s the only plan he can think of.</p><p> </p><p><em> Outrun the Turks... </em>it’s familiar, somehow. A relic from his murky past, maybe. He could very well be going crazy. But it feels familiar in the way Tseng does. The way his head hurts from the lost memories when he looks at Hojo, the fear he feels just being in their presence - it’s something he’s felt before.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud pushes the thought away. He shovels another mouthful of rice into his mouth and finishes off the chicken. He doesn’t need to be incapacitated with yet another fit, not when Hojo could pull him out of his cell at any moment. Instead, he chugs his water down and wipes his mouth, comfortably full. This could be his last proper meal depending on Hojo’s plans for experiments, and this one was probably only provided so that he doesn’t pass out. It would be inconvenient for the professor, after all. He slides the tray back through the flap and staggers over to the bed. His muscles are already beginning to repair themselves but the process would go faster with some rest. Cloud collapses onto the sheets, not bothering to get under them, curling his back against the wall so he faces the room. He shuts his eyes and almost instantly falls asleep.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Cloud didn’t expect his waking up to be pleasant, but he doesn’t appreciate nearly getting dragged off the bed. The same two guards that have been manhandling him around are standing in his room. One of them has him by the arm, tugging him again, forcing Cloud to awkwardly hop to his feet. His hair is wild and his clothes are rumpled, but appearances don’t matter when a guard is clamping a muzzle on his face again. Outside, Alexis is leaning to look in the room, one small, black remote in his hand. </p><p> </p><p>He waves it in the air. “Come along, quickly.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, Alexis begins to make his way down the hallway. The guards march behind him, sweeping Cloud up into the movement, grabbing his arms yet again. His muscles are so sore that just walking makes his breath hitch, each step making his whole body hurt. His accelerated healing made it so that in the time that he slept, which must have been a couple of hours at most, his muscles healed fairly well. There’s no weakness, just an overwhelming soreness, but it could be much worse. If he’s put through another endurance test right away, though, it’ll be nightmarish. Really, anything that Hojo throws at him will be right out of his nightmares, since they <em>frequently </em>feature the professor.</p><p> </p><p>The thought is far from comforting.</p><p> </p><p>The guards didn’t bother with a blindfold this time. He doesn’t think much of it since it would be tedious to tie and untie it every time he’s moved. They bring him to a room he hasn’t seen before. As soon as he steps in, his stomach drops. It’s a well-equipped room with rows of tall cabinets filled with everything a lab needs. Well, everything Hojo's lab needs. In the middle of the room, there is a steel table with metal restraints. Above it hangs a large lamp that is mounted on an arm. There’s a cabinet dedicated to various tools for surgery like scalpels and clamps and many others are fully stocked with vials. Everything is labeled precisely, but Cloud doesn’t have the chance to read any of it as the guards shove him forward. They retreat to either side of the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>“Clothes off,” Dana orders. She and Hojo are standing on the other side of the room. Alexis joins them shortly and the three of them pore over some papers laid out on a desk. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud takes a slow, steadying breath, and pulls his shirt off. He strips down to his boxers and pleads to whatever deity might be out there that they don’t make him get fully nude.</p><p> </p><p>Hojo turns to glance at him and says over his shoulder, “Take everything off.”</p><p> </p><p>So much for trying to hold onto the last bits of his dignity. First, they muzzle him and put a chip in him as though he’s a disobedient dog, and now he has to be naked. It could be worse if they were anything other than clinical, removed scientists with the singular goal of collecting data, but this is still incredibly humiliating. Cloud tries to focus on the pain in his body instead of his instinct to remain covered.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s too damn slow,” he whines, nonchalantly pressing a button on the remote. </p><p> </p><p>Again, the all-consuming, searing pain explodes across every nerve in his body. Cloud feels his spine snap straight, his muscles clenching forcefully, blind for a few more seconds. This bout lasts longer than the last. As soon as he’s released, he falls to his knees, twitching as though he was just electrocuted. </p><p> </p><p>“Get up and strip or I’ll fry your brain.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t get too eager with that, yet, Alexis. We may not need its intellect, but its mind must be intact for us to gather accurate Jenova data.” Hojo chides him, though he doesn’t sound very upset at all. “Though this specimen is more useful than a burnt-out clone, I’d rather have a functioning specimen.”</p><p> </p><p>Again, his cognitive functions have been delayed by the blast of pain. Cloud stands slowly and, with his jaw clenched tighter than even the muzzle can achieve, lets his boxers fall to the floor. </p><p> </p><p>It’s not so much shame that he feels. It’s fear. He’s humiliated by how incredibly dehumanizing it is, but above that, he doesn’t want to be bare in front of these people. They may not be <em>predatory</em>, but their eyes rake up and down his body hungrily, searching for any piece of information they can glean. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud stretches out on the table, slotting his wrists and ankles into the restraints. Dana presses a button that tightens them. The metal digs into his skin, tight enough that he knows his hands and feet will be numb soon. Another, separate leather restraint is strapped to his forehead.</p><p> </p><p>"Commence recording for SOLDIER specimen, session number three."</p><p> </p><p>The lamp is turned on, nearly blinding him. He shuts his eyes until they adjust, then snaps them open when he feels a gloved hand prod at the scar on his stomach. It sits just above his belly button, a thick, neat ridge caused by Masamune running him through. He cranes his head to see Dana examining the scar closely. Hojo and Alexis pull on gloves, then join her in going through each scar on Cloud’s body.</p><p> </p><p>“This one looks quite new,” Alexis notes. “What do you think, Professor? Three weeks?"</p><p> </p><p>“Remember to factor in this one’s age to its accelerated healing. Judging by the shade and state of the scar tissue, I’d estimate roughly a week, give or take a few days.” Hojo prods a few fingers on the fresh scar from the rebar that impaled him ten days ago. “What is interesting about SOLDIER healing is that it takes just as much energy as a normal human’s healing does, only it’s compacted into a shorter amount of time. Their cells work like ours, only faster, and so they develop and keep scars just the same.” Hojo runs his finger down the scar from Masamune. “It still bears the scar from the incident with Sephiroth just before I acquired it the first time.” He continues exploring the possibilities of where each scar came from and how long it took to heal, touching each one.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A very interesting block of meat.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s too much. All of it.</p><p> </p><p>Anxiety, disgust, and fear from these people touching him as though he’s just a corpse to dissect - that was enough to have him on the brink of a panic attack. A new layer of sweat springs up all over his body and his heart thuds quickly, his breathing shallow like a rabbit about to be eaten. Then Hojo mentioned the fight with Sephiroth, which Cloud still doesn’t know how it ended, and said that’s when he got Cloud for the first time. His ears ring, the high-pitched tone grating. Again, he reaches his limit.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud yearns to tear his arms free and kill all three of them. He pictures it, strangling or stabbing them, and tries to take some comfort from the hope that he’ll do that in just five days. Right now, all he can do is launch head-first into a panic attack.</p><p> </p><p>“Professor, I believe the specimen is experiencing a heightened state of fear. Look at its heart rate, see?” Dana gestures at a screen he hadn’t noticed before. He can’t turn his head at all to look at it, but he imagines his vitals are being displayed there as they were on the screen in the other room. It doesn’t matter to him all that much, not when his head feels as though it’s being cleaved in half. Cloud’s breathing rapidly devolves, eyes open wide as the persistent feeling that he’s about to die invades his consciousness. He hasn’t had a panic attack this bad in a while and they always pack a punch physically, emotionally, and psychologically. It makes sense that he would have such a bad one in the worst situation possible given his shit luck.</p><p> </p><p>Hojo studies the screen for a second. “Yes, indeed. Well, that’s not significant. It’ll alter our data slightly, given the increased adrenaline. No matter, though. First, we’ll test how quickly it can heal and save the strength test for later.”</p><p> </p><p>As Cloud hyperventilates and tries not to cry, Alexis steps off to the side. He comes back with a tablet and reads, “We’re testing the healing rates of a...laceration, fracture, amputation, burn, and trauma to the eye, correct? Starting off simple, covering our bases.”</p><p> </p><p><em> No, no, fuck, what the fuck are they going to do to me? </em> Cloud finds himself straining against the metal cuffs for a moment, his mind half-shutting down in response to his immense terror. It’s no use, of course, and disobeying will only result in the use of the implant again. Again, he clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palm until the skin breaks. He presses his head against the table to try to stop shaking so violently, but his chest is so tight and he can’t breathe, he<em> can’t breathe- don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t-- </em></p><p> </p><p>“...Only take a finger, so as to not affect overall movement. We’ll begin with a simple laceration and end with the eye. Who wants to do what, my pupils?”</p><p> </p><p>“I want the eye!” Dana volunteers. “And the amputation. Not that Alexis could cut through any bone, much less a SOLDIER's,” she chuckles.</p><p> </p><p>“Shut it. I could cut its finger off if I wanted to. I just don't want to get messy. Can I do the fracture and burn?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes, go ahead. I will take care of the laceration, then. Watch me and remember to note the time and state of the injury as you are inflicting it.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud lets out muffled, choked noises, pathetic as he tries not to move around too much. It's hard to feel ashamed when he's this terrified. But he has been degraded, utterly disgraced. A First-Class SOLDIER being brought down to this level of objectification, a toy to be played with and broken by these deranged scientists. </p><p> </p><p><em>Think of Aerith. She’s safe, and this is the price. Think of Tifa. She’d want me to be strong. </em>Cloud repeats those phrases like a mantra. <em>This is the price. I need to be strong. </em>He thinks of Aerith safe in her home and Tifa smiling with Avalanche. He thinks of Jessie’s voice and Biggs’s grin and Wedge’s laugh. He thinks about Marlene in Barret’s arms, of the night after he was attacked by a cerulean drake. He thinks, most of all, of Aerith and Tifa’s words. <em>You can be human...I love you regardless.</em> <em>You’re not alone anymore, so don’t act like it</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud will come back to them. Maybe not in one piece, but he’ll keep his promise. They showed him he’s redeemable, that they care about him, and he’ll repay them time and again. </p><p> </p><p>The panic attack begins to pass as he does his best to push his fear down. It’s not as easy this time, but it’s enough that he can take a few deep breaths. Cloud watches Hojo out of the corner of his eye, following the scalpel with his eyes, and pushes himself to block out his emotions. If he’s going to survive this, his feeling cannot render him useless. He squeezes his eyes shut and clamps down on his fear and revulsion and shame.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>This is the price I pay.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>This is the price I pay.</em> <em><br/>
</em></p><p>
  
</p><p><em>This is the price I pay.</em> <em><br/>
</em></p><p> </p><p>Something snaps. </p><p> </p><p>It’s happened before.</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>Something </em>in Cloud’s mind shatters. His consciousness splinters, then moulds back together differently. He feels nothing, not even fear, but the pain in his body. His panic attack dies away completely, leaving him coherent for the moment Hojo’s scalpel splits the skin on his arm.</p><p> </p><p>The blade is impeccably sharp. It glides down from his elbow to his wrist, sinking in quite deep. Hojo made sure to cut along the side of his arm so that he misses any major blood vessels. Cloud winces but otherwise doesn’t react to the stinging pain. </p><p> </p><p>“A laceration half an inch deep made with a scalpel from elbow to wrist on the left arm at 8:20 AM,” Hojo rattles off. “Alexis, please apply the fracture to the right tibia.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm,” Dana cocks her head, “Look at its heart rate, professor.” She points at the screen. “The vitals are fairly baseline, indicating the specimen is no longer in a state of fear.”</p><p> </p><p>Alexis appears with a small, wicked-looking hammer. He doesn’t hesitate, raising his hand high above Cloud’s shin and bringing it down hard. Instantly, pain ricochets around his leg. Pain blooms around the epicenter, doubling when his muscles spasm in response to the blow. Cloud squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing. The pain isn’t nearly as bad as other injuries he’s had before. He can take it. <em> I need to be strong. This is the price. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Fracture created using a surgical hammer to the right tibia at 8:22. Classification unknown, possibly displaced transverse considering the force applied.” Alexis sets the hammer down and picks up another device and a thicker glove. This one consists of a rod with a plastic handle and short, cylindrical head. He slides the glove on, fiddles with the device for a bit before the head starts to glow bright red from the heat. Cloud breathes out slowly as Alexis presses the head to his left shoulder. His skin begins to sizzle, and this time, he can’t help the grunt of pain that escapes him. “One burn with a two-inch diameter applied with a simple brand to the left shoulder at 8:24.”</p><p> </p><p>“Look,” Hojo says, “The bleeding of the laceration has already slowed.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Dana sighs as she rifles through a cabinet somewhere Cloud can’t see. “I almost wish I could heal as quickly. The RCD isn’t worth it, of course, since I don’t want to become some drooling, dementia-riddled husk of a person. It would be good for papercuts, though!” She all but skips back to the table with a large needle in one hand and a meat cleaver in the other. “I decided to go a bit medieval with the tools, if you don’t mind, Professor.”</p><p> </p><p>Hojo laughs. He <em>laughs. </em>“I encourage your enthusiasm, Dana. Go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This is the price. This is the price of Aerith’s freedom. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The next parts get fuzzy. He knows what’s happening, but his brain seems to be blocking it out partially. Cloud watches as Dana raises the cleaver, then blinks and there is excruciating pain enveloping his left hand. It comes from what he assumes, in the back of his mind still processing what is happening, is the stump where his pinky used to be. He screams then as much as he can with the muzzle, writhing at the unending pain. Fresh blood flows down his arm and the movement jostles his broken leg. His head hurts so fucking much and everything is too much but he can’t escape it, can’t pass out no matter how much he wants to.</p><p> </p><p>Dana holds up his amputated finger. “Did you know losing a pink could decrease grip strength by over fifty-percent? We’ll see how well it holds a sword when we sow this frozen finger back on, huh?” She places it somewhere on the desk behind him. “Now for my favorite part.” </p><p> </p><p><em> I’m going to kill you</em>, Cloud thinks. Then he feels the implant start up again, and all coherent thought is washed away. It lasts so much longer this time. His insides feel like they’re smoldering and the pressure in his head is apocalyptic. When it finally lets up, he can’t breathe with the shriek of pain lodged in his throat. It sounds like the type of scream a dying animal makes, wounded beyond repair. </p><p> </p><p>He can’t see through his right eye. His brain can’t rationalize what’s going on around him anymore. Dana’s voice filters through just barely, but he can’t process what she’s saying, only that there’s blood flowing down the side of his face. It drips over his ear and onto the table. Cloud thrashes on the table, nails scraping on the steel. The metal restraints creak but don’t bend. He screams again when the uneven ends of his bone scrape together. His vision is a mess of black spots and smeared lights blinding him, voices shouting over his agonized shouts.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>There is a sharp prick in his arm, and then there’s nothing.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>The floor beneath him is cold and hard, and there's something pooling around his head and arm. It’s tacky, sticking to his skin as Cloud begins to stir. He blinks open one eye but is unable to open the other one. He reaches up to rub his eye and feels that it’s been crusted shut. Awareness floods back in and he sits up quickly, wincing when his wounds make themselves known. The long cut on his arm is scabbed over. There is a deep, mottled bruise where Alexis had brought the hammer down. The worst pain comes from his hand, which hasn’t been wrapped. His pinky is gone. He’s not bleeding anymore, but almost his entire hand is coated in dried blood. The flesh isn’t particularly mangled given Dana’s use of a sharp cleaver to slice it off in one go. If he looked closely enough, which he doesn’t, he could probably see bone. At least he isn’t bleeding anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud is still naked, though, so he looks around to see he’s been left in the container again instead of his cell. There’s something folded in front of him. He leans over to pick it up and sees it’s a Shinra-issues pair of boxers. Immediately he scrambles to stand up, not even testing his weight on his leg before pulling the boxers on. His legs and arms are ablaze with acute soreness, but it's nothing compared to the relief of a bit of clothing.</p><p> </p><p>Over an intercom, Hojo’s voice crackles, “<em>At 9:31, the specimen awoke from the sedatives. It seems to be able to stand, indicating the fracture has healed enough to support its weight.” </em> He’s standing in the observation room with his assistants on either side. “<em>Injuries will now be assessed.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>The three of them leave the observation room and appear again before Cloud, watching him closely. He wonders if they watched him sleep for an hour, but quickly decides he’d rather not think about that at all. Hojo presses a button which makes the glass door slide open and beckons him forward.</p><p> </p><p>“Check your respective assignments, then. Note the state of the laceration - it’s scabbed over without external help.” Hojo watches Cloud walk out of the container shakily. “Off to the exam room. Come along.” They walk to the room with the table and the instruments, talking amongst themselves. As he usually does, Alexis holds the remote ready in one hand. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud has to lean against the wall for a moment, his head spinning horribly, his depth perception so off it’s making him nauseous. Lucky for him, the guards don't care. They pull him along quickly. His leg aches deeply and the pain spikes with each step he’s forced to take. He wraps a hand around his throbbing forearm and keeps his head down. He’s too exhausted. Whatever happened in the exam room before he blacked out is sticking with him. The headache from his screwed memory persists but the low buzz of fear and panic is gone. Just the aches and pains, the creaking of his joints that still hurt from his night-long run.</p><p> </p><p>Even the sight of the table doesn’t inspire much fear anymore. There’s something deeply wrong with him, Cloud knows, this is still better than having a breakdown every fifteen minutes. He clambers onto the table and lies down, but this time, they don’t activate the restraints. </p><p> </p><p>“Now, the laboratory is a clean environment, so chances are the wounds won’t get infected unless we introduce bacteria to them. It would be interesting to see how well it fares if we do that…” Hojo brandishes his gloved hands and grabs Cloud’s arm and twists it so the cut is easier to see.</p><p> </p><p>The sight of it tinges his vision green and sets his heart racing. Cloud sees the 'wall' in his mind keeping his emotions back like a dam. It’s clear, now, that he’s holding everything back. But Hojo looming over him in this room is strikingly familiar. He blinks, and the scene shifts slightly, blurry and full of static. Hojo stands in the same place as before but he’s younger and his glasses are gone. Cloud blinks again and the vision is gone, leaving him with what feels like an icicle through his temples. </p><p> </p><p>The dam cracks but doesn’t give. <em> This is the price to pay and I need to be strong. </em>He is yet to break.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we can conduct that experiment another day.” He prods the healing cut and examines the flakes of blood that come off on his gloves. “I believe the scar tissue has already begun to form.” Dana and Alexis then take turns digging their fingers into his arm. It stings, sending pain down his arm to sizzle out at his fingertips. </p><p> </p><p>Alexis moves on to the fracture and the burn. He nudges his fingers up and down the bruise on Cloud’s leg and reports the fracture is healing slowly but surely. Then Alexis drags a thumb over the sensitive burnt flesh on his shoulder and says, speaking over Cloud’s grunts of pain, “It’s harder to tell, but it seems like the shade has lightened up slightly. It’s always so fascinating how quickly SOLDIERs heal.”</p><p> </p><p>Dana, who has been busy at the desk, comes back to the table with a bottle of alcohol and a small towel. <em> Fuck, wait- </em>Cloud’s eyes go wide as she points the nozzle at his pinky and, without warning, sprays the stump generously with alcohol. While he’s choking back a shout, she cleans the blood away with quick, rough strokes of the towel, which scratches his unprotected muscle and bone. Sweat pours down his body yet again, his entire arm jerking from the pain. </p><p> </p><p>“The amputation is behaving differently from the laceration,” she starts, “Obviously, it's healing much slower. There’s no scar tissue whatsoever, but it, remarkably, stopped bleeding without external factors. May I reattach the finger now, Professor?”</p><p> </p><p>He's sure they won't give him anesthetic for the reattachment. Beggars can’t be choosers, though, so Cloud is grateful in some twisted way. His grip strength is vital for holding his sword, and if he can’t hold his sword, then he is nothing. Cloud’s purpose is to protect and the only way he knows how is with the Buster Sword. At least he won’t lose his pinky permanently. Unless it can’t be reattached at this point. If that’s true, he might have to resort to a different weapon to kill them. What a hassle.</p><p> </p><p>Hojo holds up a finger. “Let’s analyze the eye first. Then we’ll move on to the strength test. I’d like to see how its ability to fight has been affected by the temporary lack of its pinky and right eye. Then, you will reattach it. We have much to do, so let’s not dawdle.”</p><p> </p><p>Dana nods reverently, her face positively glowing with excitement. “Yes, Professor.” She turns her attention back to Cloud, walking to the other side to better examine his eye. There’s not a trace of recognition in her eyes when she pries his lids apart, no sign that she’s looking at a human. No, she doesn’t blink when his eyelashes are torn free. She didn’t blink when she cut his finger off, so this is no surprise. If Cloud weren’t so numb, he’d be furious. Furious that Shinra is funding these people, encouraging this inhumane treatment of people. How many others have suffered through this same treatment? It doesn’t matter, he muses, because he’s going to kill them. Not today, but he will. He’ll kill them with his bare hands if he needs to.</p><p> </p><p>For now, he can only listen to her clinical assessment of his eye, which is apparently healing nicely. Her voice is gratingly peppy. Giddy, even. Cloud blocks out her infuriating smirk, reassured that he can see with his right eye. It’s blurry and his eye stings worse than ever before, but he can see, and that has to be enough.</p><p> </p><p>“I put the needle through the sclera, not too deep. The blood kept his eye shut, but it seems the damage isn’t permanent.” She rifles through her coat pocket and brings a small penlight out, then passes the beam of light over his eye a few times. “The pupil is responsive.”</p><p> </p><p>With the examination done, the guards, still the same pair, pull him off the table and into the room with the various machines. Hojo’s team passes by the treadmill to something that resembles a hydraulic press. Cloud is shoved into place onto the small platform. Above him, there’s a column of stacked stone weights, each slightly wider than his shoulders. They’re suspended above him by something he can’t see from this angle.</p><p> </p><p>“Each weight is 200 pounds. You will hold up as much weight as physically possible until you cannot withstand it.” Again, the console for this machine isn’t attached to it. Hojo stands a few feet away with his assistants. While he was observing the new torture device, they had set up his vitals again on a screen for easy viewing. Cloud rolls his eyes and nods, raising his arms to take the first weight. He doesn’t know exactly how many pounds of weight he can carry, but it is a fair amount thanks to the mako in him, but there are a few complications. The biggest one being his leg which is still not fully healed, and it can barely take his weight, much less a few hundred extra pounds. His arm is still healing and his pinky is missing, but <em>hopefully</em>, the wounds won’t open. </p><p> </p><p>He’s accepted it. This ridiculous torture in the form of “science” - it’s going to happen. His mantra is starting to become more soothing. <em> This is the price to pay for their peace</em>. It's his duty to bear it. It’s better to let it happen and preserve his energy than to let it get to him.</p><p> </p><p>He holds the first stone quite easily, even with all his injuries. His wounds protest but his threshold for pain was breached by a long shot a while ago, and in comparison, this is nothing. Hojo cranks the dial a second time, which lowers another stone down. Cloud lets out a slow, steady breath. Four-hundred pounds is nothing. He can take it. The stub of his finger is getting pressed into the stone and his leg is creaking ominously, but he can take it. Six-hundred pounds is worth knowing Aerith is safe. Cloud closes his eyes and breathes. The dial is cranked again. The tension in his shoulders and arms ramps up, his cheeks get a bit hotter from the exertion, but the weight is still bearable. Hojo calls out each new total, <em> eight-hundred, one-thousand, </em>remarking on Cloud’s state each time. </p><p> </p><p>At some point, he has to shut his eyes and block everything out. Just like when he was running. Sweat drips down his face, yet again plastering his tangled hair to his face. The stone pushes on his wrists, threatening to snap his bones, and Cloud begins to bend under the weight. He’s not sure how many weights have been added by the time he’s curled over with the stone pressing on his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>A very long time ago, when his mother read him bedtime stories, she told him a story about Atlas. He was a titan, stronger than the gods, but his side lost in a great war. Atlas was then punished to hold up the world. His mother showed him the illustration of the titan crouched and anguished, his head wrenched down so that he could hold the world on his shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud gasps as his knee hit the floor. The only thing keeping his arms in place under the weight of the stones is sheer willpower. He is a SOLDIER. His honor rests solely on his own shoulders. Literally, in this case. His purpose is to keep his family safe. <em>This is the price I pay. </em></p><p> </p><p>It’s not very funny, but he would have laughed if he could at the realization that it took the worst-case scenario to open his eyes. They're his family. Tifa, Aerith, Avalanche, they’re everything now. <em>They’re</em> his honor. For once, the guilt in his heart lightens. </p><p> </p><p>The voice of the man, echoing in his ears after so long - he was important. Whoever he was. He entrusted Cloud with something precious. And for once, he feels he's holding up his promise. Cloud won’t be a disappointment anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Another stone is added. Cloud, kneeling as he is, groans as his knee is driven into his chest. His right leg is pressed to the floor, so the weight is more evenly distributed on his bone. His hand and arm have started to bleed again and the sweat dripping into his right eye stings like fire. His shoulders scream, his arms feel molten. </p><p> </p><p>Then the weight lets up. Quickly, the weights disappear from his shoulders, leaving Cloud to splay out without a counterbalance. He coughs, too startled to go on the defensive, his arms going limp. The same complete and utter burnout melts his muscles and to say they burn would be a grave understatement. </p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t stop there, of course. No, Cloud doesn't lie on the floor for more than a minute. The only reason he has to time is because Hojo is discussing something with his assistants while he pants and twitches. The guards - he’s taken to calling them Fuckface 1 and 2 in his mind - pull him to his feet again to follow closely behind the scientists to the middle of the room. It is clear of any contraptions but for a rack with a rod and weights much like barbells. </p><p> </p><p>“Let’s see if that grip strength statistic differs at all for SOLDIERS, which I assume it does,” Dana says, directing Cloud toward the rack. “Begin with no weights and fifty over-head swipes. Then we’ll add more weights.”</p><p> </p><p>Shinra must have a lot of money if they’re willing to pour so much funding into a glorified gym.</p><p> </p><p>He thinks about staring her down and wordlessly communicating that he does not want to fucking work out right now. His breathing is ragged and pained still and every single inch of him hurts. But he knows if he hesitates or slows down the experiments at all, Alexis will be happy to use the implant.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud picks up the rod which is much heavier than he thought it would be. There’s a handguard and the hilt is somewhat padded. It’s not as heavy as his Buster Sword, of course, since it doesn’t have the massive blade. It feels good to have something resembling a sword again. Perhaps his enthusiasm shows on his face, prompting Alexis to threateningly toss the remote from one hand to the other as if contemplating when to press the button for maximum efficiency. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud sighs, taking a meditative breath to keep back the traces of anger creeping through and begins the exercise. It’s simple and therefore boring, but Dana was right. Though he only lost his left pinky, holding the rod is harder than it should be, though that might be solely due to the rest of his injuries. His arms feel as though they’ve been overcooked in boiling water and his missing pinky isn’t helping matters. His hands shake fiercely from the strength test, the rush of adrenaline, and the vivid throbbing of his missing finger. Still drenched in sweat, the rod continually slips in his hand, forcing him to white-knuckle grip it. The stump presses into the steel, sending electric shocks down to his elbow. </p><p> </p><p>Bring the rod up, swing down, keep it precise. Up, down, and again. Over and over. It’s mundane and halfway through he expects the pain, making it easier to anticipate and ignore. It’s still grating, but not enough to throw off his rhythm. Once he’s done with the first fifty passes, Dana tells him to slide a weight onto the rod. They must be magnetic, much like the SOLDIER sword rigging, because the weight slides down to the handguard and stays there even when his swing gets heavier. The added weight throws off the rod's balance and makes it harder to stop it at the right angle. Both his arms are shaking now. </p><p> </p><p>Up, down, and again. Over and over.</p><p> </p><p>It’s frustrating, having to compensate for his missing finger. However, there’s a silver lining that Cloud can appreciate even now - his wounds are healing. His body is free of infection, for now, which means his energy is dedicated only to stitching flesh back together. The burn on his shoulder itches like crazy, but at least it’s getting better. He suspects his leg will be vulnerable to fractures for another few days until the bone completely bounces back. Aside from that, the laceration and puncture wound in his eye should be the quickest to heal due to their simplicity. Cloud won’t be back to full health for a while, though. </p><p> </p><p>His thoughts are interrupted when he finishes this round of exercises and has to add another weight. Dana slides the weight onto the rod, then steps back again to watch him intently. This time, Cloud has to go slower with his arms and shoulders begging him to stop and the rod slipping around his sweaty palms. Dana jots something down and continues her murmuring conversation with Alexis and Hojo. He ignores them and keeps going, forcing himself to keep his face neutral even when he feels blisters forming on his hands. With his gloves, wielding the Buster Sword hadn’t done much damage to his hands, though it did leave plenty of calluses. They aren’t much help now. </p><p> </p><p>When the fourth weight is added, his hands start to bleed. They don’t tell him to stop, so Cloud continues, grinding his teeth together as his hands are torn with every swing. Blood and sweat mixes and trails down his forearms in pink rivulets. As soon as he reaches fifty swings, the rod slips fully out of his grasp.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, enough. Reattach the pinky and wrap its hands, then we can continue with this exercise when its grip strength is back to normal. For now, I’d like to see how well it performs against a hellhound. Give it a dose of adrenaline if necessary.” Hojo waves his hands. He sounds quite pleased with the results so far. Dana nods pleasantly and signals to the guards to take Cloud back to the exam room.</p><p> </p><p>There, she has him sit and wait while she brings a small cooler out. Inside, his severed pinky rests on a bed of ice cubes. It’s pale. His stomach flips at the sight of it and horror edges through the cracks in his composure. Cloud looks away, turning his head while she sutures and wraps his hands, not reacting when she says it might not take. The cut was clean, she says, but who knows. </p><p> </p><p><em> Who knows</em>. Goes to show her shitty work ethic if she leaves that up to chance.</p><p> </p><p>She wraps them with quick, impersonal swipes of gauze. After securing it, she stands without ceremony, walking away without a word to him or the guards. They’re expected to follow, as usual. No reason to address them as though they’re sentient, in her mind. It’s irritating as hell. Cloud decides to focus on the fact that he apparently has to fight a hellhound. </p><p> </p><p>He’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and his hand won’t be back to full strength for a while, if ever. His leg is doing better, as well as his eye, but they both could very well hinder his ability to fight. Hellhounds are created to fight with all the ferocity of a cornered beast. They’re fast and have built-in weapons a la claws and fangs. </p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, he’s handed the same rod he just used without the weights. This time, the guards escorted him to a new room. It’s about as big as the ‘gym’ with the same metal paneling that the rest of the lab area has. Unlike the lower floors of Shinra Tower, which are polished and gleaming for the public to salivate over, Hojo’s network of rooms prioritizes function over form. That’s why it’s much creepier up here. Green, dim lighting on dark grey metal doesn’t really inspire happy thoughts. It’s worsened when they’ve brought a cage containing a hellhound frothing at the mouth and barking loudly.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud looks around, hoping that they’ll give him some other way to defend himself, maybe even some pants. Hojo and his assistants stand off to the side with the guards on either side of them, comfortably away from the danger zone. He turns back to the hellhound and its handler. He’ll have to fight like this, half-naked and barefoot, no gloves to keep the rod from slipping. </p><p> </p><p>“Release the hound,” Hojo says.  He doesn’t sound particularly excited. Just, patient. Waiting for a reaction that might be interesting. As if he does this every day and, eventually, deathmatches get boring. Cloud will try his best to make this one quick.</p><p> </p><p>The handler opens the cage and darts back, and the hound pounces. They’re all ugly creatures and this one is no different. Its muscles bulge as it runs toward him, jaw opening to bite his torso. They always go for the vulnerable, vital spots.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud sidesteps for the first few minutes. He’s got an open space to work with but a dull instrument and his pinky is still just a reattached, thawing piece of meat. It would probably make a tasty treat for this shitty dog if he's not too careful. </p><p> </p><p>The hellhound quickly gets fed up with his avoidance and barks at him, low and dangerous, growling as it slows down and waits.</p><p> </p><p>He stops his ever-shifting feet. Plants them. Lowers his center of gravity, bending his knees slowly, shoulders tense and body coiled to strike. It’s just a matter of who goes first.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud does. He leaps forward and keeps the rod low, then thrusts, aiming for the mutt’s eye. It ducks down and goes for his stomach, teeth-first. He jumps straight up, tries to stomp its head in, but it dodges. Again and again, he goes to strike, the hellhound moves, and he’s millimeters off. Everything is weighing him down - his audience, his hand, the full-body fatigue from the endurance tests. His body throbs with pain. If he just had gloves or something to boost his speed, or maybe if Dana didn’t cut his goddamn finger off, this would have been over ten minutes ago.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, he’s still side-stepping when the hellhound runs a few feet up the wall and crashes right into him. Cloud goes down hard, back slamming into the floor, and brings his rod up just in time for the hellhound to nearly crack its teeth on it. Its feet scrabble at his legs and stomach, claws scratching, not too deep. Its attention is solely on his neck. His jugular, to be precise. Hellhounds know where to strike to kill. They don’t play with their food.</p><p> </p><p>“Grab the mutt,” Hojo calls, “It’s time for a new variable to be introduced.”</p><p> </p><p>A few moments later, the hellhound is dragged off of him by the one human it won’t ever attack. They’re created with that in mind, then trained to never attack their handlers. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud rolls onto his side, pressing a hand to the bleeding gash on his torso. The hellhound may not have been aiming to gut him, but its claws kept coming back to gouge each scratch deeper. One, in particular, is definitely going to need stitches. He coughs, trying to forget the smell of the mutt's breath. </p><p> </p><p>Alexis appears on the other side. He grabs Cloud’s arm and stretches it out, then presses a cylinder to his elbow. A needle shoots out and injects something into his veins. He pockets it and sidles back to his mentor. It was quick, but it still pinched, and Alexis didn’t bother to keep him from bruising. Cloud rubs the small dot of blood away, staring at the growling hellhound when his ears start to ring.</p><p> </p><p>His heart starts jackhammering and his hands start to shake. Cloud clambers to his feet, feeling every ache fade away as his blood <em>sings</em>.</p><p> </p><p>They gave him a shot of adrenaline. Just what he needed to win.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t even hear when Hojo tells the handler to let the hellhound go again. He just watches. And then he strikes.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a sort of blank spot between moments. He was crouching, the cage was opening. Then the tip of his rod is stabbing through the hellhound’s skull.</p><p> </p><p>From palate to skull. Right between its eye, the rod gleams silver and red and pink and white. Steel, blood, brain, and bone. </p><p> </p><p>His heart feels like it’s going to burst. Adrenaline doesn’t usually hit him this hard. They must have given him too much. His heart is going to burst. Cloud lets the hellhound collapse, awkward as the rod clatters onto the floor, its corpse twisting. He staggers back a few steps. His hands are shaking, his whole body is vibrating. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud doubles over, leaning one hand on his knee. Funny how the roles have reversed and he’s the one hunched and hyperventilating through his mouth. Rabid. Unhinged. He turns to look at Hojo, who looks very pleased with himself. Dana and the guards flinch when he turns his wide eyes on them. He huffs a hot breath and takes one step toward them. </p><p> </p><p>Alexis brandishes the remote and sends a shock through Cloud’s system.</p><p> </p><p>And, oh.</p><p> </p><p>It’s like a match thrown in a puddle of gasoline. His back straightens so quickly his teeth clack together. His nerves were already blazing, raw, and now his skin splits from the agony. Seconds, minutes, an hour - he isn’t sure how long has passed by the time he’s crumpling to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. His breath wheezes out, a high whine leaving his mouth, bile threatening to splash against his teeth. </p><p> </p><p>Another sleek cylinder is slammed into his elbow and a needle deposits a new substance. The edge begins to ebb. His vision comes back together. No longer a kaleidoscope, which he hadn’t noticed before, and his senses dull down. </p><p> </p><p>Even so, when the guards grab him, the feeling of fabric on his skin is still unbearable. As Cloud is coming down, quickly approaching an adrenaline crash, his surroundings are still overwhelming. The lights burn, everything is too loud, and he grits his teeth as the guards’ rough gloves grate against his skin. They drag him until he gets his feet under him. Yet again, the scientists are leading them to a new room. </p><p> </p><p>It’s getting old. All of it. The guards pushing and shoving, Hojo moving on from one experiment to the next without giving him a chance to breathe, the implant in his neck. His brain feels like it’s leaking out of his ears and it’s hard to keep his train of thought.  They didn’t blindfold him, but there’s no way Cloud is going to remember how to get to the new room. He crosses into a shallow entryway, faced with a huge wall and a thick door. There’s a small, round window that’s tinted dark grey. His eyes are too unfocused to see what’s beyond the window.</p><p> </p><p>Hojo directs his assistants to a control panel to the side. “This room is capable of reaching extreme temperatures. These knobs determine the climate. We’ll see how long until it reaches hypothermic symptoms, then we’ll shoot for heatstroke.” He gives the guard a signal.</p><p> </p><p>They promptly drop him off in the room. The door is shut and locked, allowing Cloud to take a moment. Silent, no longer being touched by Fuckface 1 and 2. Sure, the room is about to get so cold he’ll be brought to the brink of death, and then so hot he’ll be baked alive, but they can’t touch him right now. So he lies on the floor and stares at the ceiling. The door is too thick to let him hear what’s happening anymore, but a few minutes later, the air gets much colder. His eyes burn from the cold and the floor already feels like ice against his skin. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not going to die. First of all, there’s no way Cloud is going to die in his hell hole. Secondly, Hojo isn’t going to <em>let </em>him die. He’s been enjoying himself too much. Cloud is a great learning opportunity - he’s an ex-SOLDIER, he apparently was a part of something with Jenova, and he has no value here, not as a person. SOLDIERs, like Turks, are assets. As long as they’re working for Shinra, they probably won’t be taken for Hojo’s research. <em> Probably</em>. Cloud gave up that luxury when he left.</p><p> </p><p>It’s getting very cold. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t move. His limbs are still splayed out in the same position as when he was tossed in. There’s no point in trying to delay it, he’s going to get very close to death. The faster that happens, the faster they’ll drag him out and into the next experiment. Cloud can only hope he doesn’t slide right into shock, what with the adrenaline crash. He’s trembling even worse than before.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud closes his eyes. He's not going to fall asleep in here, but there’s nothing else to do. The hellhound’s unseeing eyes invade his mind. Even though he’s lucid, he still can’t remember the feeling of the rod running through the dog’s skull. It’s no skin off his nose, killing that creature, but it’s objectively horrifying. Getting pitted against it in a deathmatch as though <em>he’s </em>a dog and having to end it so violently - it’s disgusting. But he can’t afford to feel any of that right now. The dam can crack all it wants, he’s going to keep the wave of devastation back until he’s relatively safe.</p><p> </p><p>The metal is starting to burn like a cerulean drake’s breath. It reminds him of his ice burns, Tifa carrying him to Seventh Heaven, and Barret handing him a lollipop. Cloud begins to shiver, teeth chattering. </p><p> </p><p>Ten minutes later, he’s not shivering anymore. He couldn’t open his eyes if he wanted to. Cloud drags in a shallow breath, not having the energy to do much more. The implant had been bothering him, digging into the floor, but now he’s numb. It’s nice. Then the flip switches, a faulty circuit in the human mind, and Cloud feels like it’s burning hot in the room. This is usually what ends up killing people, especially if they’re not aware of the phenomenon. When a person gets too cold, their mind can’t process the temperature and some wires get crossed. It seems as though they’re too hot, which makes them rush to shed their clothes in a delirium. But Cloud knows better. He knows better and he’s too exhausted to do anything about it. </p><p> </p><p>His fingers are probably bloodless and blue by the time they change the temperature. Cloud waits.</p><p> </p><p>It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. Treatments for hypothermia don’t include setting the patient down in a metal box and cranking the heat up. It’s actually a very delicate process from what little medical knowledge Cloud holds. It’s not as dangerous for him since he’s naturally more resilient, but it’s still<em> uncomfortable</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Painful, when the floor begins to heat up. Then it starts to burn him. He’s splayed out and doesn’t plan on moving, but damn does it burn every naked inch of him pressed to the floor. Sweat starts to trickle into the cuts on his abdomen. The feeling comes back into his fingers, pins and needles springing up in all his extremities. It gets hard to breathe a few minutes later. Then, his stomach cramps, the queasiness worsened by his racing heart.</p><p> </p><p>His body has been through quite a lot in a short span of time. Cloud rolls onto his side, trying desperately not to throw up because there’s absolutely no room in the muzzle to hold it. His back was starting to burn too much to ignore. Now his side is getting a nice sizzle. It feels as though there’s a molten piece of rebar through his skull. </p><p> </p><p>And he would know how that feels, wouldn't he?</p><p> </p><p>He’s about to start screaming - because everything hurts so fucking much and also because he feels like it - when the whirring temperature controls turn off. Then the door opens. </p><p> </p><p>Then he blacks out.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>And he wakes up in his cell. </p><p> </p><p>The floor is cold, but not like before. It’s not hellish. He blinks, his lid dragging over the healing spot in his eye. Cloud twitches, drags his fingers over his naked face. The muzzle is gone again. There’s food by the door. He repeats the routine from before - he spends a long stretch of time on the floor, then he crawls over to the food and eats. It drains his energy, so he has to wait on the floor for a while before he can even think about standing. At least an hour passes before he pulls himself onto the bed.</p><p> </p><p>There’s no light switch, so he presses his face into the pillow. Breathes in. Exhales fragments of glass. His lungs are twisted up, his blood vessels hemorrhaging. He’s healing but it hurts. Cloud is stitched together on the outside. Where the sutures can reach. Flesh, muscle, bone, it can be repaired. But he’s so scared because what’s intangible can’t be healed so easily.</p><p> </p><p>He curls up slowly, pulling his legs to his chest. <em>Slowly</em>. He can’t go any faster. A snail’s pace, really. And it still hurts like hell. Cloud clutches the sheets in one fist as best he can. Tears wet the pillow, and yet, he’s numb. Like the smoke and fumes that precede a catastrophic eruption. </p><p> </p><p>For all its practicality, his compartmentalizing has a price. His mind, a steel box, can still be dented and scratched. Now, he’s being ripped at the seams. It’s terrifying. </p><p> </p><p>He hasn’t been near the ocean. Well, he doesn’t think so. It makes Cloud’s head hurt, but he doesn’t mind it because it doesn’t matter, not if he can’t remember. The point is, he imagines the looming shadow of his breakdown like a shark in the water. He could see the fin from a mile away. Crystal clear, the knowledge that he couldn’t escape it. He may as well be blind and naked in the water. No protection. And it doesn’t matter that he can see it coming because the bite will tear him limb from limb and there’s nothing he can do about it.</p><p> </p><p>Now that he’s alone, the teeth are bared, the black eyes gleam with its prey within range. Cloud gathers himself into a tight ball like a child. It’s the one thing he can do. Make himself smaller. Maybe if the universe thought he was dead it would leave him alone.</p><p> </p><p>He knows it won’t. Sometimes it’s nice to wish.</p><p> </p><p>Tucking it all away for later is very much a strategy based on instant gratification. This time it doesn’t feel so juvenile, though. Cloud packed all of his pain, rage, fear, disgust, and hope into the box in his mind and kicked it into the corner. <em> To open later</em>. Like a little gift. Well, more like Pandora’s box. Another of the stories his mother told him. Whatever it is, Cloud can’t keep it closed, not anymore. He’s usually better at forgetting about it, like the headache that has become his default. Like rainfall that he can’t feel anymore. Like the memories of his past that left a gaping hole that, eventually, Cloud just got used to. He got used to feeling like a lobotomy victim. A big hole in the side of his head, dripping grey matter and blood. But he’s used to it.</p><p> </p><p>This time?</p><p> </p><p>It’s just not possible.</p><p> </p><p>The sheer magnitude of what he felt, it has to come out. There’s no room in him to hide it anymore. He feels stuffed full of grief and blood and teeth. Cloud isn’t human, doesn’t see himself as one, no matter what Aerith says. No matter how much Tifa may care for him. But this isn’t...what they did to him, will continue doing to him, it’s too much. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemies. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud coughs, shaking, <em> shattering</em>. He wants out. He wants to sleep, wants to stop feeling so scared, wants to be <em>safe</em>. Safe and warm and treated like a human again. Every time they call him <em>it</em>, a <em>specimen</em>, chips away at him, another chunk of his humanity severed and burnt. </p><p> </p><p>His face twists with the furious ache of his wounds and beaten mind. He sobs, silent but for the little choked noises because he can barely breathe. He sobs, so hard his stomach starts to cramp. Cloud cries for himself, for the things he’s forgotten, but most of all, he cries because he wants it to stop before there’s no trace of him left.</p><p> </p><p>But he’s afraid that he’s already crossed that line.</p><p> </p><p>Soldiers, not just the enhanced ones, didn’t come back from the war with Wutai. Even if they were alive. They just weren’t the same people that left. He’s already been through this once. Who will be left once he’s out of this lab? Who will it be that kills Hojo, Dana, and Alexis?</p><p> </p><p>Will it be Cloud? Will he still be here when that time comes?</p><p> </p><p>They can do a lot of damage in five days. It’s been maybe a day since he got here. Already they’ve taken so much. He can’t tell how much Cloud is left, how much will be left once this is done. Whoever’s coming back to Tifa isn’t the same person who left. </p><p> </p><p>He’s already changed so much. <em>Your eyes</em>, she said. After he threatened to kill Johnny. She could see how much he changed, even though Cloud couldn’t. Is he really still the boy who made the promise?</p><p> </p><p><em> Doesn’t matter</em>, he thinks. And, with a shudder, and one last scraping sob, <em> This is the price I pay. </em> It’s for their safety. He was meant for this. His body, marked for damnation as it is, makes a pretty good shield. They’re all that matters anymore. Even if he doesn’t come out the same, doesn’t come out<em> right</em>, he’ll still be there. Even if he isn’t still that boy, he’ll keep his promise. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud will carry his legacy.</p><p> </p><p>A part of him, rough and hidden away, smooths over slightly. It feels right to think of it that way. Cloud turns the word over in his mind. <em> Legacy...a living legacy</em>. The man with the black hair and blue eyes, he said that. He said it to <em> Cloud</em> for some reason, trusted him to hold the weight of his-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> My honor, my dreams… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His vision fizzles out. It gives way to green, static, and rain. He can’t feel the drops on his face, though he’s looking up at the weeping sky. <em> You’ll be...my living legacy</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Pain, bright, brilliant pain ignites in his chest but it’s not physical. It hurts like sunlight in his eyes, like the thud of his heart when he almost falls, like someone was ripped from Cloud. He was important; for a while, the man was everything. The warmth of his skin, the pitch of his voice, it was the whole world. And now he can’t remember it. Grief feels like too light a word. It didn’t fit when his mother died. It doesn’t fit now. Cloud didn’t <em>grieve </em>them because he never <em>accepted </em>it. Because losing them - his mother, the blue-eyed man, it was too much. It was otherworldly. It was a pain so acute and unending it couldn’t be properly described, not in a word, not with a few thousand metaphors. There’s no comparison. It hurts, and there’s no cure. They’re gone, and he won’t be the same. </p><p> </p><p>Like sunlight in his eyes. Like the thud of his heart. Like the breath getting knocked out of him. </p><p> </p><p>A part of him is gone. He loved that man. Cloud loved him with a fervor and depth he didn’t know he contained. He always thought it was silly to compare people to celestial bodies because a human couldn’t compare. But this man, he was like the sun. Bright couldn’t <em>begin</em> to describe him. He made Cloud’s lungs freeze, and it hurt but not in a bad way. Never in a bad way. And he was so, <em>so </em>good, and Cloud loved him so much, he absorbed some of that light. </p><p> </p><p>If that man was the sun, then Cloud was the moon, reflecting the light he shed. </p><p> </p><p>But he’s gone. And Cloud can’t even remember what it felt like. No trace of warmth, not a flicker of light. A void. Cold and empty.</p><p> </p><p>He opens tear-flooded eyes to see not a grey sky but a grey wall. Cloud is alone. He wipes his eyes and evens out his breathing, though it feels like putting a band-aid over a bullet hole. If there’s one thing Cloud knows, it’s how to be cold and empty. Deep, meditative breaths. Sweeping away the remains of his breakdown. Stuffing whatever wasn’t purged back into the box. </p><p> </p><p>The storm has passed. What’s left is nothing but wreckage. That’s okay, though. Cloud is used to it. He’s been walking around perfectly fine like this. He’s as ready as he’ll ever be for whatever Hojo throws at him next. </p><p> </p><p>And it’s a good thing because minutes later the door opens, and he’s taken to the lab again.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tifa rubs her eyes, failing to will away her headache. The Neighborhood Watch just spent the morning escorting the entire population of Sector 7 to the Wall Market camp. They began at sunrise but were awake a few hours before that to make sure everything was in place. Even after everyone arrived, she and the others helped the volunteers at the camp get people settled. It’s a temporary fix for their current homelessness, but at least everyone is safe. Sam sent nearly every one of his Chocobos to help with the less mobile people and a good chunk of the luggage. Among the luggage is the contents of Seventh Heaven.</p><p> </p><p>Rooting through her bar had brought back a lot of memories. Packing up the liquor and decorations was...hard, to say the least. She doesn’t want to leave anything behind, but there’s only so much she can bring with her. Years of work and love left little marks everywhere, relics that she had forgotten about until now. Tifa can rebuild. She’ll have help. But there are things that will be buried under the plate, things she can’t get back.</p><p> </p><p>She sighs and looks up, watching as people mill around restlessly. It could be much worse, she reminds herself. Everyone she loves is safe or will be soon. Now that Sector 7 is mostly vacated, Avalanche can focus completely on rescuing Cloud. </p><p> </p><p>Barret appears at her side. He crosses his arms, looking proud at the fruits of their labor. “You ready to get our merc back?” </p><p> </p><p>“More than I’ve ever been ready,” she says. “You?” </p><p> </p><p>He nods, then whistles loudly. “Let’s go get ‘im, then.” Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge emerge from the crowd. The five of them slip away from Wall Market. </p><p> </p><p>Tonight, they’ll take the last train up to the plate. Before they do, the infiltration team will change into their disguises while Barret and Wedge make sure all the equipment is packed. An added bonus of evacuating Sector 7 is that there’s much less anxiety around going down into the Avalanche meeting room under Seventh Heaven. There’s no need to come up with excuses around closing the bar or worrying about people poking around. It <em>is </em>unnerving to be in this Sector days before the plate is going to fall.</p><p> </p><p>The atmosphere of nervous energy is hard to miss, but Tifa does her best to push it down, grateful that the others are doing the same. There’s no room for mistakes today. Any other mission, they’d be chatting, bickering good-naturedly. This time, everyone makes their way to their tasks quietly. They have a clear goal, but the one thing that has been left up to fate is Cloud. </p><p> </p><p>Tifa brings her disguise into the bathroom to change, barely processing what she’s doing. Nothing is keeping her thoughts from staying squarely on Cloud now, no one to worry about but him. He’s strong. She knows he is, physically and otherwise, incredibly resilient. But he’s already been through so much and this time he doesn’t have <em>any </em>support. He doesn’t even know that they’re coming for him. Abruptly, she realizes he might think they’re not coming to save him at all. <em>I can’t think like that. </em>Tifa slips on her shoes, checking her outfit in the mirror. <em> He knows we care about him. I have to believe he does. </em></p><p> </p><p>She looks odd in these simple clothes. Office attire is so mundane compared to her usual outfit and she feels naked without her gloves on. A blazer, button-up, and slacks - nothing she’d usually wear. She doesn’t look half bad, but it feels silly to look like an office worker considering what she does with Avalanche. It feels wrong to fit into Shinra so well. Plus, everything is a bit looser since she has to wear it over her tactical clothes. </p><p> </p><p>Tifa steps back out into the bar. The others are changed and ready. On the table are their forged IDs, shiny and looking quite official. She slips hers into her pocket.</p><p> </p><p> “The train leaves in ten minutes. Let’s get a move on.” Biggs looks handsome, but deeply uncomfortable, in his simple suit. His hair is slicked back because he, like Jessie, has to leave his headband behind. </p><p> </p><p>Everyone looks uncomfortable. Even Aerith. She and Jessie are also wearing civilian clothing. Wedge and Barret are wearing all black. No one is in their element right now. Going directly to Shinra is on a level unlike any other mission they’ve done. Reactors are plenty volatile and dangerous, but they’re going directly to the source of the company. Security will be tighter.</p><p> </p><p>Even so. Cloud gave himself up to save them. It’s time they get him back.</p><p> </p><p>They go in two groups to the train station to be as inconspicuous as possible. She stays near Aerith, unwilling to leave her out of sight. They board the train and take a seat in an empty car. Wedge and Barret slide in seconds before the doors close quietly, keeping their heads down. It takes a good while to get plateside, so they have time to just sit. And stew. And wait.</p><p> </p><p>But halfway through, the TV at the front of the car suddenly blares with static. She stares at it, waiting for the announcement that an ID check is coming up, and then gasps. A chill runs up her spine and, numbly, she drifts closer. Her eyes zero in on the lone figure on the screen. Jessie presses a hand to her mouth. Barret curses loudly. </p><p> </p><p>It’s Cloud. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Commence recording for SOLDIER specimen, session number three. It is...Thursday, 7:28 PM. After a short break, we will be resuming experimentation by doing a trial run of an engineered poison for enhanced creatures.” Hojo paces the lab, hands resting behind his back. Dana and Alexis stand to the side, hands in their pockets. Cloud rests against the far wall of the container, too tired to even bring his knee up as he usually likes to sit. He can’t quite remember what it’s like to not be in pain. All he can do is track Hojo with his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Their roles have reversed, now. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud is prey, broken and flayed, waiting to be devoured. Hojo, for all the calm he displays, is simply taking his time. Playing with his food. </p><p> </p><p>Hojo stops in front of his proteges and holds out a hand. “This sample was extracted from a poisonous creature - a Bagnadrana. I then altered the natural component to be more effective against beings such as a SOLDIER. I have been wanting to test this for quite some time...I never had the opportunity to do so on the creature it was meant for.” He turns, smiling, and says, “But after this one betrayed Shinra, I knew it would be the perfect subject.”</p><p> </p><p>He comes to a stop in front of the container. Dana does him the courtesy of opening the door. Hojo prowls forward, savoring each step. He then crouches down and holds his hand out again. Cloud stares at him through his lashes.  The guards didn’t put his muzzle back on for some reason, but he doesn’t have the energy to speak. He sees his reflection in Hojo’s glasses and is happy to note his dead-eyed glare is even harsher than before. His cheeks have thinned from the exhaustion, his bags are a dark bruise-purple, and even the mako glow seems to have dimmed.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, Hojo snatches Cloud’s arm and stabs the needle into the crook of his arm. He lets the arm drop and exits the container, waving a hand. The door closes. “Now we wait and watch. I feel confident that the substance will be...effective.”</p><p> </p><p>It takes a minute for the poison to take effect. It starts off slow, a building dread, then hits him like a truck. He realizes why they didn’t bother with the muzzle. His hands start to shake as fire spreads out across his body, following the line of each blood vessel. Then the burning reaches his stomach, making it cramp severely. Cloud jerks forward onto his hands and knees and vomits to the side, trying to keep the puddle far away. He throws up again but there wasn’t much in his stomach to begin with, so it’s just bile. The poison feels all too similar to the effect of the implant when it overloads his nerves. </p><p> </p><p>His eyes burn with fever already, his chest feeling like it’s shrinking, crushing his lungs. He can barely get a breath in. Cloud collapses, angling himself away from the puddle as best he can, and shudders. Tears stream down his face as his body desperately tries to purge the poison. He exhales, sounding like a broken-down engine, nails clawing at the floor. Agony bursts along his veins. Through the tears, he sees bruises start to bloom on his arm. Then he tastes blood and a moment later, his nose starts dripping. He doesn’t need to check to know he’s got a nosebleed. </p><p> </p><p>Whatever the poison is doing to him, it’s going to kill him soon. </p><p> </p><p>But Hojo doesn’t move. He stands. And watches.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud wheezes and tries to spit, feeling more blood crawl up his throat. His stomach flips and, with a horrible, choked groan, he hacks up a glob of blood. His vision tunnels, dizziness gripping his aching head. He can’t hear anything.  At least he doesn’t have to listen to himself struggle and fail to breathe. </p><p> </p><p>Then someone is touching him. Nearly lost among the excruciating pain, a pinprick stabs into his elbow. He stops convulsing. His lungs stop seizing, allowing him to inhale, slow and crackling. As oxygen begins to reach his brain again, bits and pieces of the world right themselves.</p><p> </p><p>His consciousness floats back down to his body. <em>This is...the price. For them.</em> The mantra grounds him. Cloud goes to tuck his limbs in but finds that he can only twitch. He wants to close his eyes and wake up somewhere else. Stargazer Heights, Seventh Heaven, somewhere warm. Aerith’s home would be nice. He’d like to be wearing more than these boxers. But there’s no place for wishing here. So, he coughs as hard as he can to dispel the remaining gobs of blood from his throat and peels his eyes open.</p><p> </p><p>Reno is kneeling in front of him, disgust and pity half-concealed on his face. He tosses a sleek little cylinder away. Rude is behind him, facing Hojo and his assistants, who are angrily demanding a reason as to why their experiments are being interrupted.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” Reno whispers, “What the fuck have they been doing to you?”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud closes his eyes again, thinking about what he could say to Reno. He and Rude brought him here, after all. It’s thanks to them that he’s in this state. But they’re also the reason why Aerith isn’t here. </p><p> </p><p>“...Nothing I can’t handle,” he croaks. Then he coughs so hard he almost vomits again. Reno props him up and drags him a bit, away from the mess of blood and sick. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re a freak, you know that?”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t know how to process the guilt in Reno’s words. Sitting up makes it easier to breathe, though, so he’s grateful. Now he can pay more attention to what Rude is saying.</p><p> </p><p>“...was brought for President Shinra first and foremost. It’s time for the broadcast. We were ordered to bring Strife by President Shinra himself. If you have an issue with that, go ahead and complain to him directly.” Rude, while unfazed by their anger, seems like he’s ready to leave as soon as possible. Cloud doesn’t blame him. Hojo isn’t the most pleasant person to be around, nor his assistants. Rude turns his back on Hojo, who was about to continue yelling, and crouches next to Reno. “Can you walk?”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud wonders if those sunglasses are hindering his sight too might. They are inside, after all. No need for shades. Either way, Rude must be joking. Cloud knows he doesn’t look like he can <em>breathe</em>, much less walk. His leg is still bruised, he’s got a half-healed cut on his arm, his injured eye is barely open, and the gauze wrapped around his shredded hands is stained with red. There’s blood still streaming down his nose and mouth. Hojo didn’t even bother to have the gashes on his stomach and legs get wrapped or cleaned, probably so he could see if they get infected, so there’s blood crusted <em>everywhere</em>. Nearly every inch of his back is bright red and shiny from being burnt in the temperature room, which matches up nicely with the circle branded into his shoulder. Not to mention the poison left even more vivid bruises all over his body.  </p><p> </p><p>Somehow, Rude seems to have understood Cloud’s thought process.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, right,” he says awkwardly, “Then I’ll just…” He leans forward and hefts Cloud over his shoulder without warning. It jostles his wounds, obviously, but he’s so, so tired. All he can muster up is an involuntary croak of pain. The fever from the poison hasn’t passed yet, so not only does he get a big smear of blood all over Rude’s suit, but he also sweats all over the man’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>For a second, Cloud wonders what the ‘broadcast’ is and why they need him for it. Then he remembers that President Shinra ordered his capture first, not Hojo. Bloody and beaten as he is, Cloud will make a great example of what they do to eco-terrorists. He knows now what Rude and Reno are here for, why they’re taking him to the president. He knows what the broadcast is for. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud’s crucifixion.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alt. summary quote was: “Nothing is more painful to the human mind than, after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope and fear.”<br/>― Mary Shelley, <i>Frankenstein</i></p><p>Hooooo boy so this chapter was 13,600 words. Wowie! I edited it all last night in three hours. I finished at 3:30 in the morning. It was fun! I hope you guys enjoyed! Remember to comment, tell me what you think! It legitimately helps me write faster. On that note - I'm going on a short trip so the next chapter may be delayed a few days.</p><p>If you feel like yelling at me for hurting Cloud or just screaming about ff7 with me or <i>whatever</i>, here's my <a href="https://james-writes-occasionally.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>! I also started an art blog 🤩 Cya next week :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. this is for the lion in his broken-down, wiry body</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cloud decides to disobey again. Avalanche's plan comes to fruition.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings for <b>extreme violence</b> and <b>"on-screen" minor character death</b>. You can skip that section, as I will mark it with three bolded asterisks (<b>***</b>).</p><p><b>Chapter title is adapted from Twin-Size Mattress by The Front Bottoms.</b> (Dedicated to my bff who made me listen to them.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PREVIOUSLY:</p><p>
  <em>She stares at it, waiting for the announcement that an ID check is coming up, and then gasps. A chill runs up her spine and, numbly, she drifts closer. Her eyes zero in on the lone figure on the screen. Jessie presses a hand to her mouth. Barret curses loudly.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It’s Cloud. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He's in Shinra Tower, somewhere very high up. Behind him is the skyline. They've brought him to the president's office. In the middle of the frame, there is a podium with an awaiting microphone.</p><p> </p><p>There is a muzzle clamped to the bottom of his face; it was designed for the curvature of a human face. His arms are wrenched behind his back, held by thick cuffs, though they need not bother. Cloud looks half-dead, kneeling on the floor with his head bowed low. He’s wearing a flimsy black shirt and pants. His hair is plastered to his face, thoroughly soaked. Every inch of skin that she can see is covered in bruises the size of quarters and his veins are vivid, the purple and blue lines stark on pale skin. His face is gaunt and pale but for the bright red flush in his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>President Shinra steps into the frame with two guards accompanying him, wearing an intricate coat over his simple black suit. She wants to tear that proud smile off of his face. He rests his hands on the podium and begins to speak. “<em>Beloved people of Midgar, I come bearing good news. I thank you for your time tonight to watch this national broadcast of utmost importance</em>.” Cloud’s nose begins to bleed and he jerks. No one spares him a glance. “<em>Today I have the privilege of announcing that we have captured the rogue ex-SOLDIER. He was a threat, aiding the eco-terrorist group known as Avalanche. With the help of our agents, we have made Midgar safer for you and your families</em>.” Cloud twitches again, his chest heaving. </p><p> </p><p>“What have they done to him?” The words slip out of her, low and heavy.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I bring the traitor in front of you all</em>,” he continues, “<em>To make an example of what Shinra Company does to terrorists who threaten the lives, peace, and freedom of Midgar. I bring him here to show you that you have nothing to fear. We will keep you safe</em>.” The president waves a hand, prompting the guards to bring a very limp Cloud forward. He saunters over to them, microphone in hand, and says, “<em>This man is responsible for the disaster brought upon by the two reactor explosions. He and his team of terrorists have brought fear and destruction to Midgar. But no longer. I will not allow them to continue to hurt our planet</em>." He approaches Cloud with a plastic smile, "<em>We will have retribution for the lives lost. Do you understand the extent of the pain you brought upon Midgar? Do you have anything to say for yourself?</em>” Cloud, muzzled as he is, couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. Regardless, Shinra shoves the microphone in Cloud's face, grabbing his chin and angling his face upward. "<em>Hold yourself accountable for the suffering you have wrought.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Tifa can’t breathe. She can’t think past the furor filling her mind like fog. They <em>muzzled </em>him. They’ve hurt him. And now they're going to show off the fruits of their labor to all of Midgar. She wants to hold him, she wants to see his eyes and know he's still there. But, yet again, all she can do is watch.</p><p> </p><p>“Goddamn arrogant bastard,” Barret spits. </p><p> </p><p>"How- How can people watch this," Wedge asks softly, "And still think that he's a good person?" </p><p> </p><p>Tifa shakes her head. She can't wrap her head around it. Can't be objective enough to see it through someone else's eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud struggles against Shinra's grip, his dull eyes sharpening with hate. Through the muzzle, a few muffled grunts can be heard over the microphone. Then, suddenly, he stops struggling. He relaxes, allowing Shinra to loosen his grip. Something sparks in his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>And then Cloud rears his head back and head-butts the president square in the nose.</p><p> </p><p>Shinra staggers back, holding his bleeding nose, and yells, “<em>See? This is the violence that Avalanche condones and uses on the people of Midgar! They will be punished and eradicated, I swear it!</em>” More guards begin to stream onto the platform, sweeping the president away to a safer distance. His microphone falls to the floor, forgotten, with a bout of loud feedback. The guards drop Cloud onto the floor, hard. One of them kicks him onto his back, digging his heel into Cloud’s chest, keeping him immobilized.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa is amazed that Cloud could still have so much fighting spirit. Her relief and bafflement are cut through with horror as another guard raises his boot over Cloud’s leg.</p><p> </p><p>Jessie gasps, moving as though to try to stop them, “Oh, no, <em>no</em>, don’t--”</p><p> </p><p><em>Crack</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It was loud enough for the microphone to pick up. </p><p> </p><p>“Cloud!” Aerith cries, keeping her eyes trained on him. He writhes under the guard’s boot, trying to curl away from them. Then the broadcast cuts off, leaving them staring at their horrified expressions reflected on a black screen. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck,” Biggs whispers.</p><p> </p><p>Jessie presses her face to Wedge’s shoulder. He hugs her tightly, looking up at Barret. Tifa finds herself in Aerith’s arms, unsure of when she got there. The sound of Cloud’s bone breaking echoed in her ears. It was sickening. A deep, solid crack, unmistakable. </p><p> </p><p>Barret slings his arm over Biggs’s shoulders, trying to comfort him. “I know it looks bad. It is. But we’re getting him back.” He shakes his head, eyes far away. “He's hanging in there no matter what they've done. We’ll get ‘im back and in tip-top shape. You’ll see.”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa tightens her arms around Aerith. She’s shaking. They all are. “Tonight. We’re getting him tonight. Then he’ll be safe again. We all will.” She breathes deeply, catching a hint of flowers from Aerith, and exhales. She needs to keep the anger alive in her heart, not fear. Worrying over Cloud will get her nowhere - she needs to keep a calm, level head. </p><p> </p><p>It’s hard. </p><p> </p><p><em> Crack</em>. </p><p> </p><p>They broke his leg, who knows what else they’ll do. </p><p> </p><p>They won’t have him for much longer. Until then, they all need to stay determined and focused. Aerith pulls away, searching Tifa’s face. She gives a decisive nod. Tifa pulls back, too, but keeps a finger curled with Aerith’s. “Right.” </p><p> </p><p>With the broadcast over, they all drift back to their seats. They’ll get to the heart of Midgar in another twenty minutes. Then the real mission begins. </p><p> </p><p>An ID scan begins, bathing the train car in red. Nothing happens. Their IDs were meticulously forged by some powerful and sympathetic contacts, courtesy of Madam M. Andrea had done her the favor of dropping them off. Tifa thinks back to their interaction. </p><p> </p><p>Andrea had been extremely worried. That much is to be expected. Being in Shinra’s custody is cause for worry no matter who gets captured, given that they are a fascistic, blood-sucking corporation currently killing the planet for profit. It’s worse for Cloud as an ex-SOLDIER. She still isn’t sure how or when exactly he left, just that he appeared at the train station. Regardless, he left, and now Shinra has him in their claws again.</p><p> </p><p>So, Andrea asked them to update him on the situation as soon as they’re safe. It warms her heart to know that Andrea is looking out for Cloud. Not just him, either. Madam M was also concerned for his safety enough that she pressured her contacts to create the IDs sooner. Tifa is grateful for their help, but more than that, she’s grateful that Cloud has managed to make friends.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud’s sacrifice also endeared him to Aerith’s mother. Though she had been very much opposed to Aerith entering Shinra Tower to rescue him, she had offered her home as a safe place to stay. Once they free him, they’ll retreat directly to Sector 5 and lay low for a while until Cloud is better. After that, she’s not sure. They’ve only planned as far as this mission. She’s not sure what they’ll do after the plate drops. </p><p> </p><p>For now, she’s focused on extracting Cloud. It’s hard to look past their present concerns. The last time they raided a Shinra facility, it didn’t go well. In fact, Tifa would say the mission literally <em>crashed </em>and <em>burned</em>. It was an utter failure. This time, there’s no room for hesitation. Cloud is the number one priority.</p><p> </p><p>The train soon comes to a stop at the plateside station. The moon is out already, and most people are at home. It’s a Thursday night, so the only people out are the ones on the night shift. Stepping off the train, they begin to chat quietly, trading stale conversation about working at Shinra. No one is listening in, but better to be safe than sorry. Barret and Wedge take the streets far from the bright lamps. They’re dressed all in black to better blend in, but it only works so long as they’re not among platesiders. Everyone dresses so formally up here. Dresses and blazers and button-ups, even though it’s only Thursday. They must be so comfortably wealthy. </p><p> </p><p>She's glad she’s not a platesider, though. Shinra has a chokehold on all information distributed to these people. They couldn’t care less about the education of the people under the plate, but all the children up here are taught about the grandness of Shinra. Almost half the population is employed by Shinra, if not companies owned by them, so their livelihoods rely on blind faith in the company. Propaganda is rampant and their media is controlled to paint a completely different picture of the world. It’s hard to have a grasp on reality when it’s being manipulated so severely. She wouldn’t trade anything for the knowledge she has. Even the knowledge that Shinra doesn’t care about anyone under the plate. It’s disillusioning, but at least she’s free. It also means she can protect her family. Everyone on the plate will be blindsided by the plate drop. </p><p> </p><p>Shinra Tower comes into view. It looms above the city, opulent and all-seeing. “Ready?” She asks under her breath. Aerith, Biggs, and Jessie nod almost imperceptibly. </p><p> </p><p>They continue down the road, now silent. The doors to Shinra are open to them, inviting them into the belly of the beast. Cloud is waiting for them somewhere within. </p><p> </p><p>It’s time to get him back.</p><p> </p><p>Jessie and Biggs enter the lobby first, arm in arm. Aerith and Tifa follow close behind, smiling at the tired-looking receptionist. She doesn’t give them a second glance, only continuing to type something on her very expensive Shinra computer. The four of them approach the ID kiosks and swipe their cards. Tifa holds her breath as the little screen blinks at her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Checking… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Welcome back, valued employee. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The kiosk beeps at her happily, then resets the display for the next employee. The other kiosks greet her friends the same way. </p><p> </p><p>She exhales. “Alright.” Tifa smooths down her blazer. “Let’s get to work.”</p><p> </p><p>Their next destination is the garage two floors down. To get there, they make a beeline to the elevators. Thanks to Jessie’s affinity for blueprints, they know the layout of Shinra Tower as if they had worked here for years. Tifa clicks the button to go down and waits, trying not to seem too impatient. Their shift just started, after all. This is the easy part.</p><p> </p><p>They enter the elevator and Biggs presses the ‘close doors’ button. She can see he’d rather be slamming on it frantically, but there are cameras in the elevators, and they need to maintain their facade until it’s safe. Seconds later, the elevator deposits them in the parking garage.</p><p> </p><p>This is where things can get tricky. Jessie and Biggs will take care of disabling the security system from a console that’s well-hidden down here. Aerith and Tifa will keep watch, and when security is down, they’ll let Wedge and Barret in. The danger lies in the guards that patrol the garage. There are only two that are active, but when it comes to Shinra, where there is one, there are many. Just like cockroaches. It’s almost certain that they’ll have to knock out a few of them, which means they have to do so before they can alert their buddies to any trouble. Tifa doesn’t doubt her or anyone's abilities but it’s unsettling to know that so much rests on this first part of the plan. </p><p> </p><p>Tifa stands with Aerith, their backs to Jessie and Biggs, and mutters some crap about hating the night shift. Even now they have to be incredibly careful. One slip-up and they’ll have to shift to the contingency plan. It mostly involves busting heads and barreling forward. Avalanche invading Shinra Tower is much like a bull in a china shop. One misstep and everything comes crashing down. Their saving grace is that even if everything shatters, they’re still a bull. The only difference is that plan A requires some grace whereas plan B prioritizes the use of their horns. Tifa doesn’t mind barreling through, not after seeing what they’ve done to Cloud, but plan A is <em>much </em>safer. </p><p> </p><p>Behind her, the console beeps in warning. “Done,” Jessie declares. She huffs. “We have a little under an hour to find Cloud and get out. Then the system will reboot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s hurry, then,” Aerith says.</p><p> </p><p>The four of them dart to the entrance where Barret and Wedge should be waiting. Tifa stands guard again, eyes peeled for any Shinra uniform. A few moments later, their missing members enter the garage, equipment in hand.</p><p> </p><p>Barret hefts the duffle bag with their weapons and mutters, “Time to get this party started.”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa pulls her gloves on, grateful to have them back. Though she has her regular clothes on under the civilian disguise, she couldn’t have her gloves on in the lobby. They still have to wait until they’re in the elevator to take the office clothes off so that they’re not spotted too early. </p><p> </p><p>With everyone ready, they quickly exit the garage, heading up to the highest level this elevator will take them. Jessie figured out that there are two sets of elevators in the building. The first is the one that civilians take which only goes up as high as the offices. Past that, they have to find the elevators for those with higher clearance, like Hojo. Not a single blueprint shows the layout of the highest levels. No one can get to the president this way unless they have explicit permission, which is why regular Shinra workers don't see the Turks or scientists. </p><p> </p><p>Now that the cameras have been taken out, she can take off her outer layers. Tifa shrugs off her blazer and unbuttons her dress shirt, tossing them in the empty duffle bag. It feels like shedding old skin. Once she tosses her pants and shoes in the bag, she can dig her regular sneakers out. Slipping them on, she breathes easier, back in her element. </p><p> </p><p>Biggs and Jessie tie their usual red headbands on, sighing in relief. Aerith’s usual outfit is a dress, so it isn't uncomfortable, but she obviously prefers wearing her weathered combat boots to kitten heels. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s a straight shot up to the connecting floor,” Biggs says, adjusting his straps, “Then we don’t have to worry about civilians. We can knock out any of the guards, but it’s still best to keep stealthy.”</p><p> </p><p>Wedge nods. “Security is down but there's no way none of the guards wake up or get spotted before we leave, so we gotta hurry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just follow me. Once we get up to the lab floors, I’ll know the layout. We’ll get Cloud back lickity-split.” Aerith winks and flicks a thumbs-up at them.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa smiles, feeling her nerves calm slightly. Nothing has gone wrong so far. As long as they find Cloud quickly, they’ll be able to get out of Shinra Tower without so much as a light disturbance. She knows not to expect a simple mission, but it’s still reassuring that Murphy’s Law hasn’t struck yet.</p><p> </p><p>It takes a few minutes for them to reach the top floor. The doors open with a pleasant ding. This floor is even less populated than the ones below, but they still have to be quiet. The less noise they make, the better. </p><p> </p><p>They flit down the halls, ducking down whenever someone walks by. There are no yells for security. No one spots them. Tifa is starting to think it’s too good to be true. She can only hope that their luck doesn’t run out before the most critical part of the plan. </p><p> </p><p>And then they nearly trample a Shinra guard at an intersection. For a split second, they all stare at each other. He reaches for his helmet and opens his mouth, about to call for backup. Tifa lunges forward and gives him a swift punch to the stomach and an uppercut for good measure. There's not much time to relish it, but it does feel good to go all out.</p><p> </p><p>The guard falls to the floor, unconscious. Tifa takes his helmet off and tosses it in a dark corner, then drags him out of sight. </p><p> </p><p>“Everyone say ‘thank you Tifa’,” Biggs mutters. </p><p> </p><p>After that, it’s much quieter as they get to the next elevator. It’s well-hidden and the office cubicles function like a maze, but Jessie does a quick job of leading them through it. The elevator lobby is hidden behind another ID check which they quickly bypass. They pass through the doors, making sure to shut them and rush to the elevator. This one doesn’t have the fancy obsidian or gold trim. The buttons are small and grey and the inside is darker. </p><p> </p><p>There’s no pleasant ding when they reach the next floor. There is, however, another guard waiting right outside the door. This time, Barret smacks him upside the head with his gun. The guard crumples. His helmet is likewise removed and thrown somewhere off to the side.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith takes the lead now, Tifa at her side. She and the others do their best to take out any guards in their way while Barret takes up the back. They sprint through the halls, the countdown heavy on her mind. They have plenty of time but with more than a few guards down, there’s only a matter of time before someone spots them or they wake up. </p><p> </p><p>The lab floors are dark, gunmetal grey panels barely illuminated in certain areas. Since this level is off-limits to civilians, there’s no need to keep up the illusion. She assumes that the only floor with any luxuries up here is Shinra’s office. This place isn’t for appearances. This place is Hojo’s dwelling. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re almost there,” Aerith says over her shoulder. She clutches her staff close to her body. There’s no trace of brightness in her eyes, only shadows. </p><p> </p><p>She never did explain why she knows the layout of the lab levels. </p><p> </p><p>The simplest explanation would be that Aerith has been here before. Presumably for long enough to memorize the hallways. She’s about as old as Tifa. Aerith has a well-developed life back in Sector 5, built from many years of experience. It scares Tifa to think about how old she would have been around Hojo’s lab. <em> If</em>, she tells herself. There’s no use in making assumptions about people. Aerith is somewhat of an enigma, after all. Sometimes she acts as if motivated by something even she doesn’t fully understand. Past all of that, though, is a bright and loving person. And that’s what matters to Tifa. </p><p> </p><p>Aerith skids to a stop at the end of a hallway that veers left. There’s only one way left to go. She slaps a hand over her mouth. Tifa reaches her side a second later. Then the others catch up. </p><p> </p><p>This room is well-lit compared to the dark corridors. For some reason, it’s still not as polished. It looks almost unfinished, made up of metal plating and grates. Across from them, there is a walkway suspended over some sort of gap - another escape route. To one side there is a window to an elevated room. On the other side, there are two large cylindrical cells made with thick, green glass. </p><p> </p><p>Inside one of them is Cloud.</p><p> </p><p>He isn’t moving.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Breaking the president's nose on a national broadcast wasn't the smartest, most thought out plan. But then again, Cloud isn't quite capable of keeping a solid train of thought at the moment. What's done is done.</p><p> </p><p>They'll spin it as evidence of Avalanche's brand of violence. Everyone under the plate will see it as a sign of resistance. To half the people in Midgar, he is a terrorist. To the other half, he is a martyr. Which is funny, because that is such a romantic idea when in reality, he's about to vomit and can't form a coherent sentence. Not exactly the picture of a saint.</p><p> </p><p>The world buzzes and sways, smears of color darting across his vision. He remembers headbutting Shinra, then his bone snapping. Then he was on the floor. Movement, sound, they’re incomprehensible. His whole body is still burning from the poison. Delirium started to set in around the time he was hosed down with ice-cold water, just before the broadcast. He tries not to think about it, the water that felt like needles on his skin, the cold assessment of the bored guards. It’s ironic that they wanted to make him presentable and then ended up breaking his leg in front of hundreds of thousands of viewers. Now his leg throbs brutally, syncing with the chorus of the rest of his injuries. </p><p> </p><p>Someone lifts him onto their shoulder. His leg is jostled by the change in position, pulling a thin scream from him. He doesn’t have the energy to struggle anymore. Whoever is carrying him walks briskly away from the chaos. </p><p> </p><p>It gets quieter, calmer. His face is too hot. He can’t breathe. Cloud is wheezing loudly through the muzzle, a shoulder jabbing his stomach with each step, blood pooling in his mouth. The gashes left by the hellhound’s claws still haven’t been tended to. The only sound aside from his labored breathing is two pairs of footsteps, shoes clacking on the floor. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud tries to open his good eye to see who else is following them, but even when he manages to do so, all he sees is red and black and grey. Everything is spinning too fast. Blood starts to drip from his nose again and he feels his shirt getting wet from the gashes.</p><p> </p><p>“...still dying...side-effects might kill him. I didn’t think...bad this quick.” That’s Reno. Though his hearing is fading in and out and he can barely comprehend what he’s saying, Cloud recognizes his voice. His hair must be the red blob shifting around.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re not giving...to Hojo yet. I’ll make up some bullshit. Let’s just try to...” Rude’s voice is much closer. He must be carrying Cloud again.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll keep a lookout,” Reno says, “...Tseng comes?”</p><p> </p><p>He wants to keep listening, but it’s getting harder to stay awake. His mind and body are slipping into a fog. It’s harder to tell what hurts because everything does. </p><p> </p><p>Soon after, a door opens. Rude slowly and carefully lowers Cloud down on a bed. Then his cuffs are taken off. He doesn’t bother looking around. It doesn’t matter whether he’s left in his cell or dropped off in Hojo’s care again. He can only try to stay alive, hang onto his consciousness. Cloud needs to save his drive to fight for when it counts.</p><p> </p><p>There’s the sound of fabric tearing. Then Cloud’s shirt is peeled away from his body and tossed off to the side. Rude curses a blue streak, keeping his voice low. He mumbles something else. Then the sink turns on. A wet piece of cloth touches the deepest gash on his stomach, making him whine. </p><p> </p><p>Someone pounds on the door vehemently, making Rude freeze. The cloth retreats.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” he mutters, “I can’t stop them.”</p><p> </p><p>He does something to the sheets, maybe hiding the cloth under there. Then the door opens. Cloud forces himself to turn his head and pry his eyes open. The light is blinding, but he still manages to see Hojo’s outline in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s time to continue my experiments. Bring him to my lab,<em> now</em>.” He sounds pissed. </p><p> </p><p>Rude picks him up again. The world is yet again blurry and incomprehensible. It is narrowed down to his broken body and the shoulder digging into his stomach. All he can do is try to keep breathing as he’s moved around. Voices fill his ears, distinguishable only by pitch. Then he’s set down again. </p><p> </p><p>But he’s so tired. Cloud can’t take much more of this. The fever is getting even worse somehow. His nosebleed won’t stop. If the experiments from before were only the starting point, he can’t imagine what else Hojo has planned. They’ll get crueler, more in-depth. He has something planned for infection, but Cloud is fairly certain the hellhound did that for him already. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud coughs weakly. His body is doing its best to stitch him back together. It needs nourishment to do that, though. Food and water and rest. Instead, all they’ve given him tonight is poison and broken bones. His immune system was already overwhelmed. But Hojo won’t stop, won’t even slow. </p><p> </p><p>Paintings and stories and prayers never mention how awful it is to be a martyr. Maybe Cloud isn't a saint but just the next best thing. Someone willing to die for something better, <em>purer </em>than him.</p><p> </p><p>Again, it is a very romantic thought. Stories have no place here. What Hojo has done to him is very real. Slipping on rose-tinted glasses won't change that.</p><p> </p><p>His train of thought is cut short by someone nudging his shoulder. He tries to center himself and come back to his body. </p><p> </p><p>“...Think I have to shock it. It’s barely alive.” Alexis’s voice floats down, mildly annoyed as if someone has inconvenienced him one too many times. “I can’t believe they introduced a new variable without running it by us. And a broken bone, no less.” Slowly, it seems his senses are coming back. Sound is much more stable. With Alexis talking, he almost wishes it would cut out again.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud opens his eyes. Maybe if he shows them he’s awake, they won’t shock him. Now he sees he’s lying on his side, Hojo’s team looking down at him. Rude had dropped him off inside the same container as usual. Beyond the glass, Rude and Reno wait off to the side. They’re too far for him to see their expressions.</p><p> </p><p>“Commence recording for SOLDIER specimen, session number five.” Hojo grins, crouching down. “I believe the poison was even more potent than I initially thought. The antidote has cured him, but the side-effects continue.” He glances behind him and says, “A fever of 105? And the bleeding hasn’t completely stopped. How delightful to know my serum is so efficient! Alexis, you will certainly have to shock it to encourage it to move. Let us see how well the specimen can move when prompted.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are those Turks going to be observing today?” Dana asks, distaste clear in her voice. </p><p> </p><p>“The president wants to know what we’re doing. There’s no harm in it, Dana. They won’t affect our experiments.” Hojo stands then and retreats from the container. “Get up, specimen. It’s time to get back to work.” He and his assistants stay close to the cell, watching him closely.</p><p> </p><p>If the muzzle were gone, he’d spit a few curses at Hojo. As it is, all he can do is glare, but it just doesn’t pack the same punch. Cloud closes his eyes again, turning his face to the floor. His fever is burning away his energy. Hojo sighs. </p><p> </p><p>“Last chance,” Alexis sing-songs. “Alright, then.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s no preparing for the searing pain and the feeling of his body moving by itself. There’s no way to brace for when his spine straightens out, every nerve in his body encased in white-hot pain. When it finally ends, stars explode across his eyelids. Cloud steadies his breath as he has before, trembling and gasping.</p><p> </p><p>He is not a saint. He is not a martyr. This can't be wrapped up in one soft folk tale. It <em>hurts </em>and he's so <em>angry</em>. But not for long. He'll carry out his revenge. It won't be pretty or neat or poetic. But it'll be justice.</p><p> </p><p>For now, he'll suffer.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tifa stops breathing. The air freezes in her lungs, her body angling forward as she fights the urge to see if Cloud is still alive. The entire plan hinges on this point in time. If she runs in there and gets everyone discovered, they’ll get swarmed with security. </p><p> </p><p>First things first: she and Barret knock out the two guards that were stationed a few feet away. It's a simple matter of cutting the air supply off to their brain until they go unconscious. Silently, they set the helmets down on the floor. The other entrance isn't guarded. She wonders if Hojo thought it wasn't necessary. Shinra didn't know they were coming, and this is why she much prefers stealth operations.</p><p> </p><p>The real problem is that there are two Turks in the room that they hadn’t planned on. She recognizes them as the same ones that first came to take Cloud away. They’re strong enough that only Tifa or Barret could deal with them, leaving the others to deal with the rest of the obstacles. Aside from the Turks, there are three scientists outside of Cloud's cell. They don’t look very much like threats. There are two men, both with slight builds and dark hair. One looks much older, so she assumes that's Hojo. The third one in a lab coat is a woman with blonde hair.</p><p> </p><p>Standing in the hallway without any cover, they'll be spotted in a few seconds or, at best, minutes. It all depends on if someone looks around.</p><p> </p><p>And then that plan falls apart because the Turk with the red hair does turn around. He spots them immediately. Tifa snaps her gloved hands up, ready to fight, then watches as the Turk turns to his partner and nudges him. All while not making a sound. The two of them turn to look at Avalanche and, after a moment, start to quietly make their way to the other exit.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa glances at Aerith, who shrugs and grins. <em> Alright, then. </em> Those two Turks were weird from the beginning, willingly trading Aerith for Cloud. Now they leave before the fight can begin. Well, there’s no time to think twice about it. Tifa turns back to the cell and, yet again, feels her stomach drop.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud is lying straight as a board, muscles tensed. The man with pale skin is holding a remote toward him. From the tense lines of his body, she can tell Cloud is in pain but doesn't know why - no one is touching him. But enough is enough. Nothing is standing between her and Cloud anymore, nothing that she can’t fight. </p><p> </p><p>Barret steps into the room before she can, steps kept light and nearly silent. He approaches the scientists with his machine gun pointed at the back of their heads. Quickly, Tifa and Aerith follow behind like shadows. Wedge, Jessie, and Biggs fan out behind them, weapons at the ready. None of them turn, too preoccupied with observing Cloud.</p><p> </p><p>“Give me that remote unless you want your brains splattered all over the wall,” Barret growls, jabbing his gun at Hojo. </p><p> </p><p>Hojo stands up straighter, stilling. He doesn't turn his head.</p><p> </p><p>"...Alexis. Give the man the remote."</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, the assistant with the dark hair hands the remote to Barret, who crushes it immediately. As soon as he does, Cloud goes limp.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa and Aerith race past him into the cell while the others herd the scientists against the container wall. Cloud is lying on his side, eyes wide. She can't tell if he's breathing. Tifa slides the rest of her way on her knees. The roiling anxiety, guilt, and fear that have been stuck in her chest for days become unbearable now that she doesn't have to suppress it.</p><p> </p><p>“Cloud!” Tifa cups his cheek, heart thudding. Up close, she can see the tightness in his face. Now she sees the wounds scattered across his torso, the huge untended gash on his stomach. “Cloud, we’re here. I’m here. Look at me, you’re okay.” He blinks. The terror in her chest eases all at once.</p><p> </p><p>He’s alive.</p><p> </p><p>Gently, she gathers him into her arms, curling her body over his protectively. She presses two fingers to his neck, checking his racing pulse. His eyes are wet with tears. He’s shaking like a leaf, struggling to catch his breath. Tifa shifts him so he can sit up straighter and breathe easier. She's careful, moving him slowly, cataloging the gruesome gashes across his stomach. They extend under the waistline of his pants and haven't been sutured, crusted over with dried blood. She spots a burn on his shoulder and a healing cut on his arm. Both hands are wrapped, though the gauze is dirty. There are scratches scattered across his body and the bruises look even worse up close. Cloud keeps his eyes on her face, his glazed-over gaze trying to understand. There’s recognition, but he can’t seem to process that she’s there. His hands twitch.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith grabs his hand and laces their fingers together. “Hey there,” she murmurs, “Tifa, I have to heal him right now, even just a bit. His fever is too high.”</p><p> </p><p>She nods and leans back, letting Aerith get closer. With Cloud in her arms, it’s as if her vision had tunneled, and only now does she take a moment to look around. Barret and Biggs have their guns trained on Hojo and the two other scientists while Jessie and Wedge stand guard in front of Tifa.</p><p> </p><p>A soft green glow fills the container as Aerith holds her staff over Cloud’s body and murmurs a prayer. Tifa keeps her eyes on Cloud’s face, watching as his brow tightens. His eyes, which were dull and glazed over, are beginning to clear. When Aerith sets her staff down again, the quarter-sized bruises all over his body have faded away and his nosebleed finally stops. The gash is less severe, but a cursory healing session isn't enough.</p><p> </p><p>His posture changes. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud sits up. Painstakingly. He takes a moment to breathe. Hunched over as he is, she can barely recognize him. His eyes have changed again. Not because of the mako but because of what they’ve done to him. She sees their cruelty reflected in the curve of his spine. Cloud points at his muzzle. He grunts.</p><p> </p><p>“Barret, get me the key for this thing.” Tifa finds herself moving slowly, telegraphing what she’s doing. At first, she thought Cloud would be completely out of it, but not like this. With the muzzle, he looks unhinged. She’s not scared of him, she would never be, but something tells her that he isn't thinking straight.</p><p> </p><p>Barret jabs Hojo with the barrel of his gun. “Hand it over.” The scientist tosses a keycard at him. Barret hands it to her and she swipes it over the back of the muzzle. </p><p> </p><p>The piece of metal clatters to the ground, filling the nearly silent room. Cloud stands, head and shoulders kept low. He spits a mouthful of blood.</p><p> </p><p>"You should sit down," Tifa tries.</p><p> </p><p>“Get it out of me,” he says, quiet and dangerous.</p><p> </p><p>“Get...what out?” Aerith asks, looking up at Cloud. “Cloud?”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud stalks over to Alexis. “Get it out. Now.”</p><p> </p><p>The assistant looks over at Hojo, who nods begrudgingly. He frowns. “I’d need a scalpel.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cloud, what the hell are you talking about? Do <em>not </em>give him a weapon.” Barret keeps his eyes on Hojo, still keeping the scientists pressed against the outside of the container. </p><p> </p><p>It’s as if Barret didn’t speak at all. Cloud has a goal in mind and he won’t listen to them until it’s complete. “Jessie. Knife.” He reaches a hand toward her, not even bothering to look. Hesitantly, she places her bowie knife in his shaking hand. He flips it and shoves the hilt into the assistant’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>Then he turns. And he allows Alexis to cut into the back of his neck. Cloud doesn’t make a sound as blood cascades down his back. Tifa watches, horrified, as the assistant digs his fingers under Cloud’s skin and extracts something.</p><p> </p><p>A small, black disc falls to the floor. Cloud rips the knife away from the man and crushes the device under his heel. </p><p> </p><p>Then he starts to laugh. Cloud staggers forward a few steps, hand clamped firmly on his neck. He laughs humorlessly. “I’ve been picturing this moment,” he rasps, “Every time you called me a specimen. I've been waiting.” Then he cracks his neck and stretches his spine. When he was lying on the floor, Cloud was an unassuming, small figure. Now he resembles a beaten wolf. Sharp angles and sharp teeth, lean muscles and cracked claws. Out for blood.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>In the blink of an eye, Cloud moves. He pins Alexis to the container with one arm and with the other, sinks the knife into his stomach. Tifa flinches back, surprised at Cloud's speed despite his injuries.</p><p> </p><p>The other assistant, the woman with the blonde hair, shrieks. “Alexis!”</p><p> </p><p>Alexis screams and scrabbles at the knife in his body, futilely struggling against Cloud. Hojo pushes the woman forward as a sort of offering and ducks away, sprinting down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud pulls the knife out and shoves Alexis to the floor, already forgetting him as he goes after the woman. He doesn't have to go far, as she is trapped between him and Barret. Even barefoot and badly hurt, he paints a terrifying picture. Tifa can’t imagine what it’s like being his singular focus, knowing that he wants nothing more than to kill.</p><p> </p><p>This isn't Cloud. This person is the product of pain and fear, operating on a primal instinct to hurt.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud tackles the woman, straddling her with his knees on her arms. She screams, begging to be spared. “This,” he utters, “is the price you pay."</p><p> </p><p>Then Cloud leaves the knife embedded in her chest, effectively cutting her off.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>And it’s quiet again.</p><p> </p><p>He stands and stumbles away from the dying woman, clutching his stomach, breathing heavily. His pupils are blown wide, eyes bright with delirium. Cloud stares down at her, watching the life drain out of her. His right hand flexes and clenches, the other just shaking at his side.</p><p> </p><p>The two assistants have passed out, if not died already. Tifa tries to think, tries to process what happened. It was so quick, happening from one breath to the next. She couldn’t have stopped Cloud. Even with the extensive damage to his whole body, his enhanced strength is too much for any of them. Paired with the adrenaline, he moved too fast for them. Now the world slows to its regular speed. </p><p> </p><p>There are two corpses on the floor. Cloud is beginning to look like them.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa steps over the woman and wordlessly holds her arms out to Cloud. They've have done horrible things to him. She knows that. They committed atrocities in the name of science. Though she doesn’t know exactly what they’ve done to him, it’s obvious that they’ve torn him apart, inside and out, and haphazardly sutured the pieces back together. It’s not her place to judge Cloud for getting justice, even if his method was violent. Even if it’s not justice, but revenge. He’s been pushed past his limit and what he needs now isn’t to be treated as a monster. </p><p> </p><p>He needs to be cared for. He needs to feel safe again. They put something <em>inside </em>him, treated him like he’s subhuman. Tifa needs to remind him that he can come back to her just as human as he was before.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud steps into her hug, moving much slower now. His hands ghost over her shoulders. A moment later, his knees buckle.</p><p> </p><p>She carefully lowers him down and tugs him onto her lap. The others drift closer, standing guard. “I’m sorry,” she says softly, “I’m sorry we came so late. But we’re here now. You’re safe, I promise. I promise.” Tifa cards her hand through his damp hair, feeling him begin to shake. “We’re getting out of here, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud sobs raggedly, holding onto her weakly, hiding his face in her shoulder. “Please,” he rasps, “Please get me out. I’m tired.”</p><p> </p><p>Her heart <em>breaks</em>. “Of course. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’ll keep you safe.” </p><p> </p><p>Barret kneels down and pulls something from his back. The Buster Sword. She almost forgot they wrapped it up and brought it with them. It’s a good thing, too. He sets the blade down carefully, then grabs a coat out of the duffle bag. He wraps it around Cloud's shoulders. Tifa can't help but picture him doing the very same thing for Marlene when she falls asleep in the bar.</p><p> </p><p>“Here.” Barret leans the hilt of the Buster Sword against Cloud’s hand, still bearing most of the weight.</p><p> </p><p>With trembling hands, Cloud grabs the hilt and sobs harder. Tifa murmurs a warning, then shifts so that she can stand with him securely in her arms. Cloud winces, then melts into her hold. His hands fall away from the hilt and his head lolls on her shoulder. His eyes flutter shut.</p><p> </p><p>The faint sound of boots pounding against metal reaches the room, signaling that they're out of time. She looks at the others and finds her determination reflected in their eyes. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In case you skipped it, the minor character deaths were Alexis and Dana. Cloud carried out his plan.</p><p>Y'all like my dabbling in presidential speeches and hacking? Cuz I do. I don't know how anything works.</p><p>Anyway, I'm going on another trip lol. The last one was just 2 days, I was helping my dad with some business~ This one will be a whole week long. I don't know if I'll get the next chapter out on schedule as I usually do. Sorry if there's a delay! I'm kind of happy though (｡･･｡) I'm feeling a bit burnt out. Time for some self-care!<br/>＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／ Everyone deserves some me-time :3</p><p>Please do comment if you can, it makes me go 💖💓✨🥰 And here's my <a href="https://james-writes-occasionally.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> in case you want to DM me there or send me an ask/request/prompt!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. we can try again in the morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It is very hard to stay focused on a rescue mission when a) you are the one being rescued and b) your brain and body are melting from a deadly fever. Cloud does his best anyway.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>OK SO, I was nervous about posting the last chapter because of the whole Cloud-kills-two-people thing but it turns out y’all are OUT FOR BLOOD?? I was pleasantly surprised!! Originally that scene was more in-depth and detailed, but I cut it down just in case. Which may seem silly because of everything that happened to Cloud in chapter 3. Either way, it made me giggle to see everyone going Lucy-Liu-Kill-The-Bitch.png in the comments.</p><p>Also, sorry for the extra week between updates, lol! I extended my trip because I was so happy visiting my dad ^-^ And you may have noticed this chapter is earlier in the week than I usually post (Thursdays). I wanted to make up for the teeny hiatus. I wrestled with this chapter somewhat because of all the travel and events to keep track of. I hope it was worth the wait. </p><p>Ah, if there's anything off, I'm still jet-lagged and uh weird. So, sorry for any mistakes. </p><p><b>Remember to heed the warnings!</b> Specific chapter warnings: There is brief vomiting, not very graphic. There's also a lot of blood and some brief asphyxiation.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s being moved. That’s the first thing Cloud realizes. Someone is carrying him, cradling him carefully. The physical contact startles him internally. There are very few people that touch him without the intention of hurting him. It worries him, this discrepancy, and the way his brain is working very slowly. Cloud tries to breathe deeply and slowly to get a handle on the situation but finds it hard to breathe at all. His other senses aren't much better. Barely any light filters through his lashes. Eventually, he can hear the sound of boots pounding on the metal floor and people yelling in the distance. It makes him bristle. If people are running and yelling and Cloud was very recently unconscious, he should keep his guard up. He loathes disorientation, hates not having his bearings because it means danger and he can't protect anyone if he doesn't know what's happening around him.</p><p> </p><p>“I think he’s waking up,” whispers a voice above him. Cloud turns further into the shoulder supporting his head without a second thought, subconsciously trying to press closer. Waking up recently has been worse than any nightmare. He's beginning to remember just why that is, his mind flooding with the memory of the last few days. His heart is kickstarted, a jackhammer in his chest, the only thing keeping him from a full-on panic attack are the arms around him. He's being held gently, touched without being hurt. No one in the hellhole that is Shinra would treat him like this. That is a simple fact, easy to accept. So whoever is carrying him away from the angry voices is safe.</p><p> </p><p>The fear persists despite the comforting smell of home and safety around him. Cloud tries to think and put a name to the person carrying him. A few strides later, the cogs in his head click into place, and he realizes it’s Tifa. He almost didn't recognize her voice, as disoriented and in pain as he is. His terror cools, less of a molten mess in his chest, though it's no easier to breathe now.</p><p> </p><p>Now to get an idea of his surroundings. He knows they're in Shinra Tower somewhere and there must be troops pursuing them. Cloud forces his eyes open and regrets it immediately, the quick pace and blood loss making him <em>extraordinarily </em>dizzy. He lets out a low groan, his head pounding. His body is racked with a fever so hot he may as well have steam coming off his skin. He has to repeat it back to himself a few times, but it finally sinks in that they're still in the upper levels of the Tower. They're in the lab floors but he hasn't seen this part before.</p><p> </p><p>“Cloud,” Tifa murmurs, “You with me? We’re getting out, okay? Just hang on.”</p><p> </p><p>Beside her, Jessie jogs along with her eyes darting every which way. “Should we explain? I feel like we should.”</p><p> </p><p>They’re all keeping their voices down and stepping lightly. The boots are not Avalanche’s. They've come to get him, which means he isn't in danger anymore. He doesn't have to bear any more experiments. The realization hasn't quite hit yet. He's running on instincts right now, the bare minimum of comprehension. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not sure what day it is. If the plate has dropped. If anyone else is hurt. Being out of the loop always makes his guts knot up, frustrated and uneasy in equal measure. The easiest thing to understand is the state of his body, so he takes a moment to focus on that first. His pinky feels like it’s going to fall off, which is not unlikely, and his broken leg is screaming. The untended gashes on his stomach sting like gunpowder going off, each step a spark. Though Tifa has a fairly steady pace going, every time her sneakers hit the floor he’s hit with another burst of pain. They swerve left suddenly and the sharp turn escalates every bit of hurt in his body, his stomach flipping and muscles spasming. He gags, clenching his jaw.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t throw up, merc,” Barret says, his voice coming from somewhere behind them. Cloud’s eyes unfocus and his head lolls forward, hand creeping up Tifa’s back. Awareness comes in waves. He’s trying so hard to hang on, but everything <em>hurts </em>and the infuriating terror persists and he’s so damn exhausted. </p><p> </p><p>More than exhausted. There’s nothing left. If this were a regular mission he’d be at the front, ready to defend them. Now he can barely curl his fingers over Tifa’s shoulder. This is all he can do, so he'll do his best. Cloud holds onto her shirt with weak, trembling fingers and tries to make himself easier to carry. There’s no way he can walk or even stand on his own right now. The mental block that had kept out the worst of it all is gone. Killing Alexis and Dana had been the first blow, having filled with a shattering wave of shame and relief. Then he had come back to his body and seen Tifa open her arms to him. She was still willing to treat him with kindness after seeing what he did. That was the finishing blow. The dam in his mind broke and the flood knocked him to the floor, physically and mentally. Now he can barely form a coherent thought.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa is looking deeply worried, though, so he says, “Tryin’ not to.” His voice is nearly lost among the sounds of their footsteps. He hasn’t had a drink of water in who knows how long, so he chokes on those spare words, coughing and coughing until blood hits the back of his teeth.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud vaguely remembers Aerith healing him before the muzzle came off. The nebulous feeling throughout his body, telling him something is deeply wrong, is gone. The rest of his wounds remain, but whatever the poison had left behind - something malicious, something dangerous - has been purged. The damage is still extensive. It screwed with his blood vessels, made him bruise and bleed. Combined with a hellish fever, the residual effects could still be deadly. It's no surprise, considering what the poison had done to his body. </p><p> </p><p>“Shh,” Tifa murmurs. “Hold on a little while longer.”</p><p> </p><p>“I really think we should tell him the plan,” Biggs says.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud’s chest shudders as he tries not to cough too loud. “Just...tell me.” </p><p> </p><p>“We’re almost there.” Jessie leads them down a winding corridor. “Listen, Cloud, you remember how we got off the plate last time?” She keeps speaking and he still hears her voice but doesn't understand a single word. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud has a short attention span currently, thanks to his overwhelming nausea and pain, so he loses the conversation for a bit. He turns his head away from Tifa's shoulder. His stomach is unsteady, to put it lightly, and throwing up seems inevitable. He'd rather not do it on Tifa.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Earth to Cloud</em>,” Jessie whispers harshly. “Alright. Lost you there for a sec, stud.”</p><p> </p><p>“Try to stay awake, yeah?” Tifa hefts him higher. “Barret, you mind taking him?”</p><p> </p><p>“I gotcha,” he says, reaching his arm out and lifting Cloud in one swing. Barret’s size comes in handy yet again, his arm being big enough to cradle him easily. The shift in position proves to be too much. Cloud flounders, pushing at Barret’s arm with too-weak arms and vomiting. No one was caught in the splash zone, thanks to Barret swerving away from the group just in time. </p><p> </p><p>Groaning, he does his best to wipe his mouth clean, sinking back down. “S’rry.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll forgive you this time,” Barret grumbles, “Only ‘cause you managed not to get me.” He doesn’t sound angry at all. A bit unnerved, maybe. Cloud would’ve thought he’d drop him on the floor for that. Maybe it’s the dark red puddle that he left behind. </p><p> </p><p>Their pursuers seem to have lost them for a bit. The sounds of their pursuers are almost too faint to hear. Jessie continues to lead them through the dark hallways, ever sure in her steps. Feeling safer now, the atmosphere clears up like they’ve all breathed out a sigh of relief. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud feels himself going limp, drifting away, then barely feels a thing. Breathing is getting complicated, the air getting tangled in his windpipe. He closes his eyes, so lightheaded that for a second he fears it’s actually floating away. That must be his brain melting. Maybe it’s leaking out of his ears. </p><p> </p><p>They’re talking to him again, but he’s too tired. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything, not even listen. Comprehension goes out the window. All he’s left with are wispy thoughts and his barest senses. The pain becomes a hum in the background. That should probably worry him more. The fever-heat is like a second skin, suffocating. He tries to think about something else, anything but the fear of being found by Hojo again or the bloody gash on his stomach. </p><p> </p><p>But it's hard. All he can smell and taste is blood. He hears the others whispering harshly and feels a hand on his face, touching his forehead and pressing against his neck. His eyes are shut, and there's no chance of opening them to see who's touching him, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't want to see the dark hallways, not anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Hojo’s lab smelled like blood, too. It was his own, carrying the scent of mako as well. It coated the cell in the lab and soaked into the sheets of his bed. He’s so sick of the iron choking him, metallic and invasive. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud was drowning, hanging on by a thread this whole time, and he still is. Not even Tifa’s presence can truly soothe his terror. Nothing short of escape can do that. He wants out. Not just from Shinra Tower, but from his body, too, his broken body that seems to be in perpetual agony. He can picture the vessels in his body bursting, blood staining his skin and streaming down his face. Like little waterfalls, as though he’s infinite, as though he isn’t human. But. Titans have ichor. Saints have angels. Cloud has a throat full of blood.</p><p> </p><p>Something pounds on his back, hard enough to make his diaphragm spasm in protest. The blow vibrates up his spine to the slice in his neck and around his ribs. Cloud’s entire body heaves with an excruciating cough. A hot glob of something is dislodged from his throat and that same metallic taste invades his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>Immediately, Cloud sucks in a massive gulp of air, still coughing wetly, his lungs smoldering. The world comes back into focus and his head is no longer floating, screwed back into place. The numbness in his limbs is gone.</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe, just breathe. You’re doing so good,” Tifa says, “Guys, we need to go <em> now</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m on it,” Wedge says, frantically pulling bundles from a duffle bag. </p><p> </p><p>Tifa is holding him up and gripping his hand. Barret crouches beside them, his hand still on Cloud’s back while his gun points down the hallway.  Aerith cups his cheek and murmurs a prayer. Light extends from her staff to his body again, whisking away more of the pain. Soon his lungs feel less like a pair of wet sandbags, letting him breathe deeper. The air still crackles as it passes through his blood-filled throat, but coughing is easier now. </p><p> </p><p>His mind clears slightly, still bogged down by the fever.</p><p> </p><p>He tries to ask what happened but all that comes out is a croaky gurgle. Cloud clears his throat, spitting out a bit of blood. He tries again in a painfully hoarse whisper, “What--” It’s all he can get out. </p><p> </p><p>“You were, ah, choking on your blood,” Biggs says, his face pale but he sounds angrier than he does frightened, “What did they do? Just point to where Aerith should focus her healing, okay? Don’t try to talk.” He's standing nearby, keeping his eyes on the hallway in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud waves his hand over his whole torso, hating how his hands shake. The hellhound left a mess and it’s the highest concentration of pain. Then he jerks, realizing that his best chance of keeping his pinky is having Aerith heal his hand right away. He scratches the bandages loosely wound around his left hand, trying to tear them off. His fingers are clumsy, moving with about as much precision as a newborn babe’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Your hand? Let me.” Tifa quickly unwinds the gauze, tossing the bloody bandages in a pile. Then she stares.</p><p> </p><p>Black sutures hold his pinky in place, the flesh red and swollen where it was first severed. Cloud instinctively tries to wiggle it and finds that he can't. The finger refused to budge. The very idea that he might lose his finger fills him with panic. He holds his hand out to Aerith, internally begging her to understand.</p><p> </p><p>She holds his arm up carefully by the elbow, examing his hand with grave eyes. “I’ll heal your hand as soon as we’re out, okay? I can’t do it here. Did you hear the plan?” Cloud shakes his head, leaning more and more against Tifa.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re jumping, Cloud. Like last time?” Jessie holds two of the bundles out to Tifa, then another to Biggs. “The parachutes worked so well last time, I figured we could do it off the Shinra Tower. I have a feeling this is the last time we’ll get the chance, though.”</p><p> </p><p>Parachutes. Huh. “Where?” </p><p> </p><p>Jessie shoots a glance at Tifa. “Off Shinra Tower, Cloud.”</p><p> </p><p>Right. Things are slipping away from him. His blood is boiling. The wound on his stomach feels worse, filling his head with itching agony and not letting him think. They’re jumping off a tower. “Okay…” It’s not like he can do anything about it. Best to just go with it as he has been.</p><p> </p><p>He blinks, and then he’s in Tifa’s arms again. </p><p> </p><p>“Ready? Keep breathing, okay?” She says, her expression something awful. She looks sad. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud tries to say, ‘I’m fine.’ All that comes out is a moan. Her eyes darken, and then they’re moving again. </p><p> </p><p>A steady wind blows all around them, brushing his drying hair out of his face. It cools his heated cheeks, and though it smells like mako, he feels a little more human. A little less like a captive creature, and it’s easier to remember that the world exists. That he has a future beyond that cell. </p><p> </p><p>His peace is interrupted by Tifa taking a step forward. And then they fall.</p><p> </p><p>She’s holding him tightly, a few straps helping to keep him still. Her arms are clamped around his back and under his thighs respectively, his head resting heavily on her shoulder. Though there’s no chance of her dropping him, his stomach drops violently, the feeling of falling not stopping even after a solid minute. The wind screams in his ears. Cloud scrambles to hold onto her, his arms slung over her shoulders, still barely able to make a fist. After another few seconds of free-falling, he settles back down, suddenly realizing that Jessie was talking about when they jumped off the plate.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa has him, her fingers rubbing lightly over his tense back. He doesn’t enjoy the sensation of falling, but he’s still foggy, so it’s hard to actively hate it. His mind is still in the Tower, a part of it stuck in the cell. A bigger part is wishing he’d gone after Hojo. He wanted to make him hurt. To make him feel Cloud’s pain, tenfold. He wanted <em>revenge</em>. Not just for him, either. For everyone that Hojo has hurt and killed, picked apart and put back together <em>wrong</em>. For all the SOLDIERs and innocents he made into perfect monsters. Cloud wanted revenge for his humanity, and Hojo is the one that took it. Tarnished it. Turned him into what he is. Aerith and Tifa may think he’s intact, or somehow still human despite what’s been done to him and what he has done, but he can feel it, the difference. The mako in his veins, mako that Hojo injected and drowned him in.</p><p> </p><p>He wanted revenge. </p><p> </p><p>What he got is not what he wanted but, perhaps, what he needed. Cloud is free again, having succeeded in keeping Aerith away from the lab. If he had the choice to trade Aerith for the chance to kill Hojo, the thought would never cross his mind to do so. She means so much more to him than vindication. And yet. The itch to maim remains. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud has bigger things to worry about, though, like the fact that they’re going to have to land. Tifa pulls the cord, opening the parachute, and they’re jostled by the sudden resistance. He wheezes, the straps tightening and pressing his wounds to Tifa’s shirt. She rubs his shoulder in apology.</p><p> </p><p>For a while, they just float. Cloud’s mind wanders off and he almost dozes, concentrating on breathing. His chest feels tight and the thinner air isn’t helping. The farther down they drift, the easier it gets, but everything that his body has been put through is catching up to him. There were two advantages to his mindset - <em> I need to be strong, I just need to wait it out </em> - and vehement suppression. The first is that his mind stayed intact. He was able to push through experiment after experiment. The second is that it was easier to handle the immense pain. Cloud had disconnected from his pain, both mental and physical, to shield himself, and though the moment he did so was violent and terrifying, it worked in his favor. But every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Everything is coming back, snapping like a rubber band.</p><p> </p><p>“Get ready!” Tifa says. Cloud’s fingers twitch, trying to hold on tighter. It’s all he can do to stay awake, much less move. Whatever they’re prepping for, she’s doing most of the work. He half-opens an eye, finding a blurred mess of lights.</p><p> </p><p>A second later, they fall directly into Barret’s arms. The impact is lesser than if Tifa had taken the brunt. As it is, Barret acts as a sort of spring to absorb their momentum, but it still rings painfully through Cloud’s bones. Though he’s more tired than he’s ever been, the fall stirred up some adrenaline. His body is thoroughly exhausted and energy spent, and yet, his heart is pounding as badly as his head. </p><p> </p><p>Barret gently sets Tifa on her feet, keeping Cloud close. “Here they come,” he says. Cloud can’t be bothered to check who it is, unable to keep his eye open. “The car is a few blocks away.” There’s the sound of a few thumps, then Wedge’s voice. </p><p> </p><p>Time blends into a mess again. At some point, someone touches his face. People keep doing that today. He thinks they might call his name. Cloud tries to speak, to say anything. Again, all that comes out is a weak moan. A grunt in the back of his throat. Maybe it’s enough because then someone cards a hand through his hair. It feels nice. Then he feels a few tiny, cold droplets land on his face. The air is sweet with rain.</p><p> </p><p>There's more running, and then he’s set down ever so carefully. Compared to the hard brick of a bed in Shinra Tower, the blankets are a haven, even though they’re getting damp from the drizzling rain. Cloud turns his cheek to the blanket, just taking a moment to feel the rain and the softness. The cold drops do well to wake him up. Like before with the wind, it reminds him that his pain is temporary. Aerith is with him. He smells flowers, so he knows she’s close. The surface underneath him begins to rumble and then they’re moving again. Curiosity and instinct spur him to try to open his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>After a few tries, Cloud peels his eyes open. His lashes are covered in rain droplets, which drip into his tired eyes, and it feels fantastic, washing away blood and sweat. It feels familiar, but his mind is so foggy he can’t think about why. Instead, he tries to focus on the figure above him.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith’s eyes are the first thing he spots. Bright green and wide. Her hair is getting darker where it tumbles down over her shoulders, tickling his face. She’s murmuring, praying over him, holding his left hand in both of hers. Green light swishes around her as the rain becomes heavier. The light twines around his hand and through his stomach, sending an incomparable feeling of well-being and energy through him. Magical healing always feels like that, but with Aerith, it’s somehow more comforting. Her presence never fails to calm him. He can't shake the feeling that he's done something wrong, though.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” His voice is barely a whisper and nearly lost among the sound of the rain hitting the car. “I failed you.”</p><p> </p><p>She jumps. “Cloud. There you are.” Aerith shakes her head. “We talked about this, didn’t we?” She doesn’t seem disappointed, but a bit sad. Cloud can’t quite tell with his vision blurring intermittently. </p><p> </p><p>He blinks, trying to get his thoughts together. Aerith’s magic pushes the pain from his mind, clearing some of the cobwebs. Cloud scowls. He isn’t sorry like he was before, this is a different feeling. It’s less self-hatred, less that he caused everyone’s pain. He doesn’t know how to say it, though. “No. My weakness...I couldn’t protect you.” She opens her mouth to say something - possibly scold or reassure him. Before she can, he continues, pushing past the heat encompassing his body. He has to say this, he has to use the right words and prove that their promise wasn’t for nothing. “Not the way I should’ve. No more,” he says, determination bleeding into his slurring words, “No more. I’ll be strong. I won’t worry you again.” Desperation surges in Cloud and he moves before his mind catches up. He grips her hand as tight as he can. Her magic gives him the edge to open his eyes further, hold her hand tighter, make sure she understands. “I won’t leave your side.”</p><p> </p><p>Aerith sits shocked, her prayer interrupted but magic going strong. Then she smiles, so fond it nearly blinds him. “You didn’t fail, Cloud. You did so well. You were so strong.” She rubs her thumb over his hand, soothing him until it nearly slips from her hold. “I’ll be strong, too. So you don’t have to leave me. Now, sleep. You’re safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve got you,” Tifa says. She shifts his head to lay on her lap, leaning over him. </p><p> </p><p>A few droplets make it through her and Aerith’s hair, landing gently on his face. He closes his eyes, satisfied that they understand. They sounded tense, though. “Rain feels nice.” He’s even quieter now, not sure that they can hear him. But he doesn’t want to worry them. “‘S nice.”</p><p> </p><p>Someone breathes a soft laugh, barely an exhale, but it’s light. Even with the truck bobbing under him, Cloud is comfortable. What a novel thought. His head is pillowed on Tifa’s legs and Aerith is taking great care to keep her magic steady. Again he marvels at the softness of the blankets. He wants to stay awake and get his bearings, but his eyes slide shut, heavier than lead. The tinker of rain on metal is a steady white noise, lulling him to sleep before he can form another thought.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Finding Cloud was...frightening. There’s no one word to describe everything she felt. It was terrifying to zero in on his body. There was blood splattered across the floor, both dry and fresh. It was worse to see Hojo again. His face never fails to disgust her, no matter how many times she sees it in her dreams. And to see him standing over Cloud, it filled her with protective fury, rivaled only by when she hears the planet crying out.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith lets it fuel her, lets it turn into something else that she can use to heal him. Magic takes energy, focus, and motivation. It works in her favor to be so emotional. To have so much rioting in her chest and let it out in a productive way. It serves as kindling for the love she has for her little family, and with Cloud finally in front of her, all she needs to do is funnel it into her staff. </p><p> </p><p>Now she’s tending the worst wounds, which are the gashes on his stomach. They extend down to his thighs, though the deepest is on his torso. She wonders what could have caused the ragged scratches. They’re layered as if someone continually attacked Cloud. Her other priority is his finger, which had begun to heal minimally but was still very much at risk of falling off. It’s hard work to knit bone back together. She tries not to think about what it must have felt like when it was cut off.</p><p> </p><p>It makes her want to go right back to the tower and finish the job. She wants to make Hojo pay for the pain he has caused. But if she thinks like that for too long, she’ll think about getting revenge for her mother, for the planet, and that’s a rabbit hole she doesn’t have time for.</p><p> </p><p>It’s also very distracting, trying to heal Cloud while Biggs, Jessie, and Barret keep up a steady barrage of bullets. They’re being followed by tens of drones, but it’s still odd. It’s not a lot of firepower on Shinra’s part. They were prepared to be followed by troops and maybe even a SOLDIER. The drones are fish bait compared to what Shinra has in their labs. Aerith ignores it, pushing her sense of unease to the side. Emotions can influence the potency of certain magic and she doesn’t want to let it affect how well she heals Cloud. This is the first session, and it’s more rushed than she would like, but it's crucial that she get Cloud stable right now. His fever sky-rocketed earlier in the Tower and he was largely unresponsive, his moments of lucidity short and far between.</p><p> </p><p>All she wants is to be back in her home with her herbs and medicines and mother with her friends safe and dry. There, she and Dr. Hearth will be able to treat Cloud properly. </p><p> </p><p>For now, she hangs onto the fact that he was lucid enough to speak to her. It hurt her heart to hear him say he failed, to think for a moment that he hadn’t truly acknowledged their conversation. And though she still worries that his guilt complex would persist and make him feel as though he has to hold the world on his shoulders, the outcome is better than she had hoped. From what she understands, he felt guilty about worrying her and having to sacrifice himself. At least, she hopes that’s what he meant. He was completely delirious for a while there. Perhaps he meant something else.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith will have to wait until he’s clear-minded to ask, and that only adds to her impatience.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>They leave the rain behind when they near Sector 5. Wedge kept the pickup truck going as fast as physically possible even when he leaned out the window to help take down some drones, so they made it back fairly quickly. When they got under the plate, it seemed all efforts to take them down died away, and not even a tracking drone flew behind them for the last half of the journey. </p><p> </p><p>Wedge slows down as he drives through Sector 5 while Barret reminds everyone to stay inside. They don’t need the kids seeing Cloud in this state. To see their idol bloodied and sick - well, she’d like to avoid that. With the streets empty they’re able to drive deep into Sector 5 until the pathways get too narrow. </p><p> </p><p>Barret all but leaps out of the truckbed and scoops Cloud up, striding toward Aerith’s home. She and Tifa scramble to follow, with the others close behind. Since the mission to rescue Cloud from the Tower launched during the night, the sun has begun to rise. Just barely, but the sky is lighter now. Normally, Aerith would be drowsy, not having slept at all. Any trace of tiredness is blocked out, knowing that she still has a job to do. Cloud is counting on her to heal him and make him whole again and she refuses to let him down.</p><p> </p><p>She all but runs past her precious flowers and through her open door. She, like Barret, is tracking mud and rainwater through the house in their haste to get to work. Her mother is waiting in the guest room where Barret sets Cloud down on a mound of towels. To the side of the bed, there is a chair stacked high with more towels and blankets, and their first-aid kit is open beside Cloud. Dr. Hearth is waiting with gloves pulled tight over his hands, already examining Cloud.</p><p> </p><p>Her mother hugs her tightly, letting go quickly. “Welcome home, my love.”</p><p> </p><p>Aerith pecks her cheek as she moves, still holding her staff, and nods to Dr. Hearth. “Let’s get to work.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ooooohoho this is the penultimate chapter...the next one is the finale of the multi-chap fic! Next update will be on the usual day, Thursday. </p><p>Thank you everyone for your wonderful comments ;u; They made me feel much better about taking a break.  I'm pretty sure I wasn't experiencing burnout regarding writing. I think I was just caught up in a lot of things. I didn't really like what I was writing anymore, and I didn't want to create anything for fear of it turning out badly. Depression do be like that. But visiting my dad helped.</p><p> Thank you for being patient, too! Here's my <a href="https://james-writes-occasionally.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> - I post updates there from time to time. During the hiatus I also posted a short sneak peek of this chapter! You can also feel free to send me an ask/DM and request something or just chat with me :)</p><p>Comments fuel my motivation :3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. rejoice, the sky's fucking falling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everyone is safe, tucked away in Aerith's home. Everyone is waiting for the sky to fall.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No warnings for this chapter :) This isn't beta read (none of this series is lol) so please excuse any errors.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Chapter title is from Rejoice by AJJ.</b></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The house is quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa is in the kitchen, getting a glass of water. Avalanche is stowed away in Aerith’s home and, for one reason or another, there has not been a peep from Shinra all day. While Dr. Hearth and Aerith worked throughout the morning, Tifa and Barret stood guard outside the door. Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge patrolled outside the home on alternating shifts. There had no been trouble. </p><p> </p><p>Their peace has been uninterrupted. And yet, Cloud remains stubbornly awake.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa doesn’t know the specifics of his injuries, as she was waiting outside the room to keep from bothering Aerith or Dr. Hearth. She’ll ask as soon as he’s asleep. The thing is, he doesn’t seem to want to sleep. Without anything else to do, Tifa came downstairs to fetch him and Aerith some water after a long healing session. It was a good excuse to take a breath and center herself. </p><p> </p><p>She has to constantly remind herself of a couple of things. First, Cloud is safe. Every so often, she’ll get caught up in her train of thought and somehow loop around to think about rescuing him. It hadn’t been long; today is Friday, Cloud was taken on Tuesday. Just a few days. In those few days, the thought of Cloud being in danger had burrowed into her mind and, even after successfully rescuing him, it remains in her mind. Her worry follows behind her doggedly, whispering at every turn that he’s still in danger. So, she has to remind herself that he’s currently tucked into Aerith’s bed, safe and sound. </p><p> </p><p>The other thing she has to remember isn’t nearly as comforting. Tifa will think about the next few days and try to plan their next step, and she’ll think something along the lines of '<em>we can stop by Sector 7'</em>. They’ve gutted Seventh Heaven of all valuables or sensitive documents, but she still manages to forget. The bar had been her home and livelihood for so long that it’s now a habit in her mind. It’s muscle memory to turn to Sector 7, to think of it as her haven. It’s hard to remember that it’ll be gone in a few days. </p><p> </p><p>Tifa trails up the stairs, a cup in each fist, torn between focusing on the present and obsessing over the future. It would be good to solidify their plans on how to evade Shinra, but she also feels that she needs to be more present, for everyone's sake. </p><p> </p><p>Her choice is made for her as soon as she enters Aerith’s room. Pushing the door open with her hip, she scans the room for any threats. What she finds is an exhausted Aerith begging Cloud to go to sleep and Dr. Hearth sheepishly scooting toward the door. </p><p> </p><p>“He’s still not asleep?” Tifa murmurs, trying not to startle the doctor.</p><p> </p><p>Shrugging, he says, “No luck yet. After what he’s been through, I would have expected Cloud to be asleep by now. Then again, he seems to enjoy surpassing human limits…” He trails off, almost in a daze. Dr. Hearth had been working alongside Aerith and Elmyra. She can see the lines of stress on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” she sighs. “I’ll take care of them. Thank you so much, Dr. Hearth.”</p><p> </p><p>He gives her a small smile. “It’s no problem. Plenty of people have been wanting to repay Cloud’s kindness. I’m glad to be of service.” With that said, he waves goodbye and closes the door behind him. </p><p> </p><p>Tifa approaches the bed, her body aching for sleep. She holds a cup out to Aerith, whose shoulders slump in relief at the sight of it. While Aerith chugs the water down, Tifa sits next to Cloud, who is yet again swathed in bandages.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey there.” She lifts the cup to get his attention. “How about some water?” Cloud nods gratefully, reaching a shaking hand up to grab the cup. She lets him sip it by himself but keeps her hands free just in case it slips. When he’s done, she sets it on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>“Better,” he rasps, “How’re you?” </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t seem to be lying. His fever was brought down from boiling to manageable and all of his wounds have been cleaned and wrapped. His leg is cushioned on a particularly big pillow and his right eye is covered with a square of gauze. Cloud’s right hand is heavily bandaged, but he has all five fingers, so Tifa guesses that it’ll heal up eventually. She noticed a bottle of pills on the nightstand, the same chalky little antibiotics inside. He seems at ease under Aerith’s soft blankets, a far cry from the sight they had stumbled a few hours ago of Cloud lying in a puddle of his own blood. </p><p> </p><p>“Me? I’m fine.” Tifa resists the urger to scrub her stinging eyes. It’s been a long night. “Aerith?”</p><p> </p><p>“Peachy,” she says, then yawns. “It’s time for bed, though. Tifa and I will change into pajamas and then you’re going to sleep, mister.” </p><p> </p><p>For a moment, it looks like Cloud is going to protest, but then he sinks deeper into the pillows. He nods, blinking slowly. </p><p> </p><p>Aerith smiles. “Dr. Hearth gave him a <em>strong</em> painkiller.” She ruffles his hair, chuckling lightly when he turns to press his forehead to her palm. “So he’s a bit…”</p><p> </p><p>“Loopy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep.”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa sighs in relief. That should help him sleep comfortably even after the week he's had. She stands and goes to rummage through her duffle bag to get a big t-shirt and pajama shorts out. She and Aerith take turns washing up in the bathroom. By the time she’s brushed her teeth, the toll of the night’s mission has fully caught up. Tifa shuffles back into Aerith’s room to find that Cloud is still awake, staring at the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>He turns to look at the window. After a beat, he looks back at her. “Can’t sleep,” he admits.</p><p> </p><p>The sleeping arrangements are a bit cramped, with so many people staying in one home. Marlene and Barret will take the guest room, where Biggs, Jessie, and Wedge will sleep on the floor on blanket-beds. Aerith offered her room to Cloud and Tifa. Elmyra, who had emptied her stash of very soft and fluffy blankets, offered her room as well, but no one wanted to put her out. She was already offering her home as a place to hide when they're in the most danger.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa slides under the sheets, feeling the heat that Cloud’s fever has already accumulated. It’s nice, to be honest, like a heated blanket. He looks back at the window with half-lidded eyes, studying something outside. Tifa tries to enjoy the warmth and proximity to her best friend. She tries to tell herself there’s nothing to worry about because if she doesn’t, she’ll never fall asleep. There’s plenty to worry about. It’s not her shift yet, though, so she should take advantage of their temporary peace to get some sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Barret probably won’t sleep either, especially because he has Marlene to protect. She doubts that Biggs will be able to sleep soundly, either. The plate drop weighs heavily in her mind, making her question whether everyone is safe or not, whether they left something important behind. And above all, she’s just waiting for Shinra to ambush them. They could have very well followed regardless of how well Wedge did, winding around Sector 6 to try and get anyone off their trail. The fact that it’s been quiet the whole morning is more unnerving than a full-on attack. It makes her think there’ll be an ambush at any time. </p><p> </p><p>Her mind won’t slow down, no matter how exhausted her body is. </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes burn and her head is pounding. She’s been awake for who knows how long and on high-alert. The mission had gone smoothly and no one is hurt except for Cloud, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t aching. The very reason no one was hurt is that everyone was giving their all and more. She threw herself into every fight. Her body needs rest and repair, but she doesn't think she can manage to sleep more than a few hours.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not so bad, she thinks. If she’s awake then she can protect Cloud and Aerith better. With Barret and Biggs being in the same boat, the three of them should be able to watch out for any suspicious activities even from their respective rooms.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith comes through the door and closes it. She makes a beeline to the window and pulls the shutters closed. Then she tidies up a bit, tossing soiled bandages into a bin in the corner and gathering everything back into the first-aid kit. Once the room looks less like a tornado came through, she drops onto the bed, careful not to bother Cloud. </p><p> </p><p>“Goodnight,” she whispers, leaning over to turn off the bedside lamp. </p><p> </p><p>Tifa rolls over to face the door. “Goodnight.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud makes a soft noise, but otherwise stays quiet and still. Tifa resists the urge to turn over again just so she can look him over again. She won't show her back to the door. Cloud and Aerith are under her care and she’ll be damned if she’s taken by surprise. </p><p> </p><p>The minutes then melt together. It’s the middle of the day but only a bit of light filters through the shutters. The house is still silent, everyone in bed. She forgot whose shift it is right now but they’re definitely not the only one awake.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a small while later, less than an hour, that someone shifts around behind her. She cranes her head to check on Cloud.</p><p> </p><p>She finds something that she wouldn’t have expected. In hindsight, it makes sense that Cloud is more forward about his needs right now since he’s hopped up on meds. Still, it’s such a surprise she almost does a double-take. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud is folded into Aerith’s arms, his head tucked under her chin. His leg is still elevated on the pillow, but he has his arms slung over her waist. He’s trembling. Aerith is stroking a hand down his hair, taking care to avoid the bandaged cut on the back of his neck. She glances over Cloud’s shoulder and meets Tifa’s eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Aerith stretches her spare hand across the slight gap and wiggles her fingers. Tifa shifts to lie on her back so she can link her fingers with Aerith’s. She smiles, still carding her hand through his hair, and strokes her thumb over Tifa’s knuckles. It almost makes her blush, the unspoken and meticulous attention. </p><p> </p><p>After that, Tifa eventually sleeps a couple of hours. </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>The room gets dark, then light again as the sun sets and rises outside their little bubble. It’s early Saturday morning when Cloud blinks open a hazy eye. Tifa watches as his gaze sharpens suddenly and he shifts, then suddenly stills. She sees the realization flood in and his body sinks back into the sheets. Aerith has an arm flung over his waist and he’s still tucked into her body. She almost can’t mesh the image of this vulnerable Cloud with the man she had come to know. The man whose back she most often saw, walking in front of her with his sword held out. The closer she gets to his side, the easier it is to see how much he’s hurting. He’s her best friend despite the years they lost and despite their childhood. They weren’t very close until the end. But she can see that after all this time he’s still just young and scared.</p><p> </p><p>There are still angry red lines across his cheek from the muzzle. Cloud reaches up to touch the gauze over his eye. Tifa gently takes his wrist before his fumbling fingers can mess with anything.</p><p> </p><p>“Try not to touch it,” she says quietly, “It’s mostly precautionary, but, it’s to keep your eye from getting contaminated.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” he says. Cloud sheepishly scoots away from Aerith, doing his best not to wake her up, but his movements are clumsy. The scratches all over his body were made by some sort of animal, so it’s no surprise that he has an infection <em>again</em>. At least this time it hadn't gone untreated for long. His face is still flushed, but he’s awake and lucid. She counts that as a win.</p><p> </p><p>“How are feeling? Are you up for eating something?”</p><p> </p><p>Aerith starts to stir, her arms slowly moving over the now empty blankets. Cloud blinks up at the ceiling, his fingers playing with the edge of the bandages around his stomach. </p><p> </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa slides out of bed, cracking her stiff neck while she stands, and goes to open the door. She finds Jessie about to knock, her knuckles instead bumping into Tifa’s shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>Jessie smiles. “Hey, sorry. We wanted to see how Cloud’s doing.” Behind her, Biggs and Wedge look like they just rolled out of bed. There are dark circles under Jessie’s eyes, but everyone in the house is sporting those same bruises. She looks more alert than her counterparts. </p><p> </p><p>“Morning!” Aerith says, suddenly right behind Tifa. With the sun coming up, everyone else has woken up. Barret and Marlene will be along in no time. “Come on in.” She beckons them in, her fingers already wrapping her long hair in a braid. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud is sitting up in bed against a formidable pile of pillows. With everyone’s eyes on him now, he turns to look at the window again. Tifa wonders if he’s blushing under that feverish pink across his face. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re looking much better,” Biggs notes, grinning. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud nods, then forces himself to look at Biggs. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“For what?”</p><p> </p><p>“You willingly went into Shinra Tower for me. It could have gone badly.”</p><p> </p><p>Wedge cocks his head. “You would have done the same.” He shrugs as if it’s a universal given. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud shifts his gaze down to his wrapped leg. “Thanks.” Then he scowls and abruptly turns to look at Jessie. “Did I...did we jump? Off of the Tower?”</p><p> </p><p>Jessie laughs and laughs, and while Tifa would like to stick around, she does need to get some food for Cloud. She heads to the door and, again, is blocked. Barret takes up the entire doorway with Marlene in his arms. </p><p> </p><p>“Good morning,” chirps Marlene. </p><p> </p><p>“Good morning,” Tifa says, “Did you sleep well, Marlene?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep!” She leans forward to look into the room, hair swishing around her face. “Why’s everyone in here? It’s breakfast time!”</p><p> </p><p>“Is he awake?” Barret asks, leaning down to squeeze through the doorway. </p><p> </p><p>Tifa leads him to the bed, where Aerith and Jessie are perched at Cloud’s side. Biggs and Wedge sit by the foot of the bed. Cloud is listening intently.</p><p> </p><p>“...didn’t follow us after that, for some reason. I may be a good driver but, I really thought Shinra would try harder.” Wedge must be filling him in on the mission. Cloud never did like being out of the loop. She understands, but they shouldn’t discuss it around Marlene, and she’s hesitant to agitate Cloud at all when he’s still sick. </p><p> </p><p>“Good morning!” Marlene says again. The others respond in kind. “It’s breakfast time!”</p><p> </p><p>At that, a few stomachs growl loudly. Cloud turns away again, his ears now red, and Tifa is starting to realize he’s not as subtle as he’d like to think. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you sick again, Cloud?” Marlene squirms around, asking to be put down. Barret sets her down carefully on the bed. She scoots forward to press her tiny palm against his cheek, then hisses in sympathy. “Hot! You need some juice.” </p><p> </p><p>Cloud looks stunned. Tifa has seen firsthand that he has a soft spot for kids, as evidenced by the little guards in Sector 5 who idolize him, so this must be hard to handle. He doesn’t seem familiar with being cared for, much less by someone like Marlene.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” he says yet again, “Some juice would be nice.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go get some!” Marlene slides off the bed, running off before Barret can grab her. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud watches her go, his face turning somber once she leaves the room. “What day is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Barret crosses his arms. “Saturday.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then tomorrow,” he says, “The plate drops. Is Sector 7--”</p><p> </p><p>“We evacuated them and cleared the surrounding perimeter. Everyone’s belongings are safe and they’re staying in temporary housing. All that’s left are empty buildings.” Tifa hates to interrupt, but his eyes are getting stormy, and the last thing he needs is more stress. “That’s why...” <em> That’s why you had to stay in there longer. We traded in your well-being. But we had to. We had to.  </em></p><p> </p><p>He nods. “Good. It would have been bad if you left it until today. That was the priority.” <em> Not me</em>. Tifa knows that’s what he wanted, she knew it while they were planning everything, but it’s somehow infuriating to hear it out of his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” she says anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith’s hand is fisted in the sheets. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be.” Cloud looks at her with clear, piercing eyes. “You would have done the same for me.”</p><p> </p><p>Aerith doesn’t blink, doesn’t move. Then she nods and sighs. “Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“Next time, <em>neither </em>of you do something stupid like that,” Barret says, irritated. “We’ll just blast ‘em away. No more of that self-sacrificial shit. Got it?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s quiet at Cloud and Aerith contemplate that. It doesn’t seem like they’re going to protest, so Barret looks satisfied. The sound of little feet hurrying up the stairs breaks the silence. Marlene comes back into the room with a glass of juice held carefully in both hands and Elmrya in tow. </p><p> </p><p>She presents the juice with a grin. “Here you go! So you can feel better.”</p><p> </p><p>Elmyra smiles, making her way to Aerith. She hugs her daughter close, looking over the people crowded into her guest room. “You have a very good nurse taking care of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud, who is carefully accepting the cup, gives a ghost of a smile. His lips don’t move but his eyes soften. “I do.” </p><p> </p><p>Marlene gives him a thumbs-up, then runs back to her father. Cloud sips his juice, and they all chat for a while until everyone is too hungry. They don’t mention the marks on his face or ask how he got so hurt. They don’t talk about his formerly severed finger or why his hands were like two big healing scrapes. She still doesn’t know what animal inflicted the gashes, and though she has a solid guess, now is not the time to ask. Now is not the time to dwell on what the scientists did to him, or his way of exacting revenge (or is it justice?). It’s time to eat together and let the darkness of the past weeks wash away, at least for a few hours. </p><p> </p><p>After breakfast, Cloud is tired. Dr. Hearth explained that his body heals faster but still needs the same amount of food and rest, so he’ll be very tired for the first few days as the infection passes. Cloud is hesitant to keep sleeping but Tifa eventually manages to convince him to rest for a bit.</p><p> </p><p>The house is quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa sits in the windowsill, staring out at the small lake. Her eyes follow the light glinting off the water, and though she’s still, her mind is still racing. Apprehension holds tight to her chest. One thought hangs in her mind, and she keeps thinking it, as if the repetition would make it easier to process. As if it would make sense.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The plate will drop.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>They can’t go up against all of Shinra, not the six of them. Cloud isn’t at his best, and even if he were, it would take all of Avalanche to consider trying to fight Shinra. In this case, they’re powerless to stop it. Tifa feels secure in the fact that the people of Sector 7 are safe, but she can’t stop imagining what it’ll be like when the plate drops. She can’t help but fear the shock wave that will undoubtedly come, the sound of her home shattering. </p><p> </p><p>They can’t even stay to help with the aftermath. Shinra <em>knows </em>where Aerith lives. Rude and Reno are two enigmas for not attacking and letting them leave quietly. She also suspects they helped slow down Hojo and the officers, and she can’t even fathom why. They’re only two Turks, though, and there are plenty more as well as SOLDIERs who wouldn’t care what happens to any of them.</p><p> </p><p>The question they’re all asking is why has Shinra not come after them? They’re vulnerable, their strongest fighter down with a broken leg and infection. Now would be a good time to strike. Tifa has no earthly idea why they haven’t been killed yet. </p><p> </p><p>Is it the robed creatures? She hopes not. They fill her with dread and promise more havoc than even Shinra can cause. She doesn’t know who they are or what their goal is, so they’re an unpredictable enemy, and she knows they can come out of nowhere at any time. </p><p> </p><p>It’s likely that Shinra is just biding their time. It could be that, for one reason or another, they feel confident enough to leave Cloud and Aerith alone for the time being. The plate is going to drop, so that might be their ‘hidden’ winning hand. It worries her to think that Shinra is waiting to strike. Waiting in the shadows, knowing something that they don’t. So confident in their ability that they’re willing to let Aerith and Cloud go free for some time. </p><p> </p><p>Either way, they have to leave tonight under the cover of darkness. Elmyra and Marlene will stay here and be looked after by the Neighborhood Watch. They can’t stay here for any longer - from now on, they’ll constantly move around Midgar to keep Shinra off their trail. Today is the last day they can pretend as though everything is okay.</p><p> </p><p>This precious peace is fragile. It will last for a few more hours, but she can't afford to sink into it. Tifa wants to cherish it so that she can be ready for when it’s gone. So, for now, she'll watch over the flowers and her friends, and pretend that the sky isn't about to fall.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, here we are, folks. The end of this whole mess. Except, it's not really the end, not by a long shot.</p><p>First of all: thank you all so much!!! I deeply appreciate all of the support you've given me throughout the whole series, but I especially want to thank everyone who commented on this fic. Things were rough for a bit, and they still kind of are, but I always looked forward to updating and hearing from you all. Any time I needed the motivation to keep writing, I read your comments, and it never failed to make me feel better.</p><p>To be honest, I'm still low on energy. It's harder to create stuff right now because I keep feeling like it isn't worth it. I'm tired and frustrated because I feel like it should be better - both my art and writing. But I've felt steadier when writing for this series. It's like a way to keep myself in check and remember that it's just my brain being bad.</p><p>I have a few parts already planned for this series, so don't worry! It doesn't end here. However, I do feel I might slow down my posting schedule. On top of my dumb brain acting up, I'm also starting college soon <i>and</i> I've recently gotten very, very into BNHA. There are other things I need to dedicate time to. So I'll keep writing/posting, but it'll be a little slower!</p><p>Again, thank you for your continued support. I hope I wrapped this multi-chap fic up nicely all while keeping you on your toes ;D Tell me what you thought in the comments or come on over to my <a href="https://james-writes-occasionally.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>! We can chat about anything and sometimes I take requests for fics. </p><p>Take care and be safe. Cya next time!</p>
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